


he smiled & his face was like the sun

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, SMUT in chapter 18, SMUT in chapter 24, follow up to the SMUT in chapter 19, really steamy SMUT in chapter 26
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 29,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: 1. keep you safe (for me) - magnus and protective raphael2. adore - pov raphael3. after all this time - patrochilles au4. love is (not) a devil - 02x08 fix it5. don't wanna be dead (with you) - role reversal6. baby won't you be my date - first date featuring oblivious raphael7. you don't have to hurt me tonight - post betrayal reunion poem (no season 2)8. jace wayland's lonely heart club - boathouse scene but with saphael9. they think my lover is strange - shadowhunters don't understand simon/raphael's dynamic10. 3 times simon enters raphael's room +1 time he stays - pov raphael's guard11. the bedroom hymns - s1 missing scene/simon takes on his sexy greaser look (with raphael's help)12. I keep pushing and you keep holding on - based on an IT Crowd quote13. you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had - clary sends a care package to dumort (scented cookie pillow)14.  in between me and you and the moon - sort of companion poetry to ch715. the candy sweetness scent of you - explicit poetry16. how you gripped my hips so mean - explicit poetry+ more





	1. keep you safe (for me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He came home at five without a single call to let me know he was alive. Five, Magnus. In the morning, two hours before sunrise."
> 
> The warlock arched a brow and stirred his drink, allowing the other to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring protective!raphael and papa magnus

 

These are the days that test man's patience, Magnus thought as he poured his third martini in less than two hours.

 

His two beautiful darling boys had their first spat and naturally the loft became ground zero immediately following sunset. Simon had apparently bolted from DuMort to The Jade Wolf in search of Luke and Magnus got Raphael. He didn't mind listening as it kept the two hot headed vampires from hissing at one another and throwing passive aggressive jabs (oh but they excel at those). 

Raphael perched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees. "He came home at five without a single call to let me know he was alive. _Five,_ Magnus. In the morning, two hours before sunrise."

The warlock arched a brow and stirred his drink, allowing the other to continue. 

"He went straight to bed without even feeding. And when I confronted him about it, he accused me of overreacting.  _Me,"_ Raphael clenched his jaw and pointedly avoided eye contact.

He was one step from angrily crying at the thought of losing Simon Lewis for good and it made Magnus' heart ache. He's one of Magnus' oldest friends and when he'd fallen for the fledgling, he'd given him _everything_. When he loved, it was a lifetime affair.  He reminded Magnus of Guadalupe Santiago in that regard. Raphael's mother had thrown everything she was and had ever been into her sons and it showed.

He continued, tone softer. "I'm not the one who conveniently forgot to feed for six hours. Dios, he could've fainted on the way home."

 

 

Magnus placed his drink on a coaster and gently eased his friend down onto the sofa.

It went without saying that petting his hair was a foolproof way to calm him and had been since he'd been a wild eyed fledgling terrified of getting too close. Raphael was much older and mature now but even the strongest need consoling especially when their reckless other half is determined to get himself killed.

On the inside, the elder vampire is still the frantic scared little boy Magnus once took under his wing even if Simon cannot see it. 

 

 

He gently stroked and softly murmured, "Shh. He's okay, Cookie. I'm sure he's learned his lesson, he _is_ still a fledgling. We all start somewhere." 

Raphael's eyes fluttered closed, visibly relaxing. "He won't allow me to protect him and training is coming along slowly. He's easily distracted. What am I supposed to do if he won't listen? Follow him?" 

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"He's too stubborn to listen, Magnus." 

The warlock lightly skimmed his fingers over the worried crease between Raphael's eyes and trailed backward to his forehead, another timeless technique. He thought back to the many years his spirited night child spent in self imposed isolation and the strained months of burning his own skin with sacred holy symbols. He'd been a fledgling then with guarded brown eyes and fierce loyalty once Magnus had earned his trust.

Love and devotion, he'd learned, kept Raphael from greeting the sunrise. 

"Mmm, I've heard this story before."

Raphael huffed, affronted. "I was never that bad." 

"Mmhmm, tell that the the mark on your left pinky. It's permanently scarred because your ignorant, forgive me for saying so, curiosity made you take on the sun with one finger at least. I shudder to think of what would've become of you had I not shown up." 

Raphael shivered at the thought, a phantom pain shooting up the digit. "What's your point?" 

"My point is," Magnus replied, straightening and dislodging the head in his lap. "If we want forgiveness, we must first forgive, Rafe. Now go to him and use your words. _No_ hissing." 

"But-"

The elder downworlder held up a finger -  _"NO._   Go kiss and makeup or bite...whatever it is you kids are into these days." 

Raphael hesitated at the open doorway. "Thank you," he offered, leaning into his friend for a hug. The embrace was comforting and warm - a soothing heartbeat and _ew_. Repulsive scent. He sniffed, "You stink." 

"That's vodka, sweetheart. It's imported and cost more than your jacket. Now, shoo. Off you go." 

As soon as his friend was out of sight, Magnus powered his phone on and hit  _Luke Garroway._

* * *

 

"DuMort. Five minutes max," he texted. 

Luke replied less than a minute later with, "Simon left about ten minutes ago." 

"Excellent," Magnus sent.

They'd make up and forget all about it until the next time. Ah, young love. Such turmoil and drama. He smiled to himself, hitting the button for Alec's number. It rang twice before his own beloved other half picked up.

"Yeah?"

"He's gone."

"On my way."

 

 

 


	2. adore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Te amo," I whisper. I love you, I love you. Simon, I love you. 
> 
> Te amo as your brunette waves take shape as a mess of bedhead, Te amo as I struggle at times to realize it is because of my bed, my pillow that a tendril falls over your forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First person POV: Raphael

 

 

There is no heaven that will hold us nor will we walk on streets of pure gold, lilacs in our hands in the life after this. 

Vampires are meant to dwell in the darkest of shadows. We are the night children cast out from the slightest flicker of light. We the damned, the forsaken. We: the chapter where bones never break and immortality is both a gift and a curse.

As a child not yet touched by death, I'd imagined heaven as a candy shop filled with jelly beans and chocolate covered raisins that overflowed from vats. Bellyaches would not exist and my brothers would forever be at my side.

Such childhood foolishness, I can hardly recall it without fuzzy edges. 

 

+

 

 

I turn a page in my book and you unconsciously shuffle closer as if your body knows it's way home. It's 3:45 pm on a Saturday and my eyes itch and burn for a reprieve but I cannot manage to turn away from  _you._

You say my name in your sleep and I wonder if the dream version of me is loving you right, loving you holy. It is the only way you deserved to be loved. Not in grand gestures but spoken in a hushed tone in between chapters in a faded book.

You do not know of it but watching your eyelids flutter in sleep is one of the many ways I love you. As you lie next to me, head pressed to my thigh, I find myself swallowing back a surge of emotion.

"Rafe..." 

I decorate the sheltered space around us with poetry murmured in Spanish and your name on my lips in between. _Simon. B_ _aby. Simon -_ the minute our lips met, I knew I would die to protect you. I felt in as an earthquake in my bones -- I adore you.  _Dios._

"Te amo," I whisper. _I love you, I love you. Simon, I love you._  Te amo as your brunette waves take shape as a mess of bedhead, Te amo as I struggle at times to realize it is because of _my_ bed, _my_ pillow that a tendril falls over your forehead.

"Rafe," more lucid than before. 

You wake slowly, arms and legs first as you stretch followed by a content sigh. Eyes like sweet caramel blink in the darkness, adjusting. But this is not the grand finale. It goes as such: 

"Morning."

Your voice as a song, a whisper -- the soundtrack of my life redux. You've yet to adjust to waking with  _Goodnight_ instead of morning and in your drowsy state, you're unaware of the rising sun we cannot see or feel -- the mid afternoon hour. 

"Sleep,  _mi amor._ It's early yet." 

You reach for me, mouth already forming a sleepy smile. The very air around us feels charged with the sparks we throw off. Your arms hold you up just as your heart holds mine and I feel _light._ The book hits the floor. 

* * *

 

When I think of heaven I see a crinkled smile, soft lips kissing along the curve of my lower back, my name drowsily murmured. I see a thousand paper lanterns in a pale blue sky, the sun on your shoulders. A holy choir of -- 

_"I love you, kiss me."_

* * *

 

 


	3. after all this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus is reborn as someone else entirely. He spits blood and growls, 'You're a monster!' and Achilles feels sick. This is not a second chance, it's hell.
> 
>  
> 
> (Patrochilles au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achilles: Raphael  
> Patroclus: Simon

* * *

 

Achilles trudges through vine and twigs, feet heavy and sluggish. In his arms lies Patroclus, cold and _so still._ His lashes fan out against pale skin and it's wrong. Death and art are one and he should never be someone's masterpiece. The bulk of him in Achilles arms serves as a paperweight reminder of how love and death spin together, never ceasing. Pale lips do not speak, they cannot protest such a future neither of them are prepared for.

Moonlight illuminates a path -- a bed of soil waits for him and your arms feel too far away tonight. 

"His soul could be trapped forever," Achilles warns. A couple have gathered at the makeshift funeral -- it is they who hold the answers. Achilles' heart pleads,  _'Bring him back to me'_ It's at war with logic --  _'What life will you give him? Misfortune and darkness is all you've got to offer.'_

They choose an afterlife, a resurrection. Patroclus is reborn as someone else entirely. He spits blood and growls,  _'You're a monster!'_ and Achilles feels sick. This is not a second chance, it's hell.

* * *

 

Patroclus wants nothing to do with him.

He stands on the opposite side with people who look upon Achilles as if he were God's own abomination and it burns. The monsters light people ablaze and still he clings to them as a child to her mother's apron. 

"What good is he to you if he starves to death," the ginger girl snaps. She is more growl than bite but manages to shred him with hardly a word, with Patroclus' name. 

"He can stay," Achilles retorts. Patroclus is hungry to the point of near fainting and it angers him that no one has ensured he's fed. Achilles will take him back with conditions and warm him until his pale cheeks color. 

 

The ginger girl insists upon putting up a fuss. She tracks him as a puppy to a bone and Achilles cannot. He  _cannot._  

"...since you're such good friends," he snarls, tone thick with jealousy. He chooses to put her life at risk in order to wake Patroclus from the madness --  _choose me._

Later, Patroclus stares into her eyes as he murmurs -- "This ~~he's~~ my world now."

Achilles feels a familiar ache in his bones when he steps up from behind to take her place. "Welcome home."

 

 

Patroclus stays. He settles in rather quickly and knows the layout of his new home by heart some eight days later. Time passes and Achilles thaws, his heart beating back to life. They grapple most afternoons with thighs and biceps, shoving and --

 

 

Patroclus pants, pinned to the floor. Achilles has both wrists in one hand and is teasing playfully when a hand cups his cheek. It's something from a dream, this. 

"Can I," he questions as if no were ever a possibility. 

"There's no need to ask," Achilles says, nose brushing against Patroclus'. In the end it's Patroclus who closes the few precious inches and flips them until Achilles is pressed onto the floor. He could fight back, he could -- but Patroclus makes him want to surrender. 

"I've...wanted to do that...for so long," Patroclus breathes, rolling his hips.

Achilles gazes into his eyes, tracing a cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. For a moment, they still. The world at large ceases to exist - everything narrows down into a singular breathtaking minute.  

"I'd hoped for this," he confesses. The younger boy turns his head into Achilles' palm and kisses. 

"Me too." 

 

Patroclus cares for him, he must.

* * *

 

There is an interlude.

 

Achilles enters the main hall with its gilded couches to find the ginger girl. Her features are etched with irritation for interrupting the conversation she and Patroclus were having. They'd whispered to one another and he felt it -- Patroclus was leaving one second at a time. 

"Surprised you know that," he teases, sneaking up behind his beloved. 

" _Why_ do you keep doing that to me?" Patroclus is hostile, he is not the gentle boy who speaks of constellations and draws them on Achilles back when he cannot sleep. Nor is he the person who tells awful jokes and lounges in bed until they're tangled in the sheets again.  _This_ is not him. The boy in front of him is the one she left behind, jaded. Achilles wonders which side is genuine --  _hers or mine?_

 

Predictably, she needs help and though there is bad blood between them, Achilles folds. He is a good man despite her distaste for him, a lowly demigod under her feet. Had anyone else other than Patroclus asked, he would've refused. 

 

Patroclus is slipping away. He wrongly assumes his stay has run it's course and goes to follow her as she leaves.

"Hey...stick around," Achilles says with his best flirty voice. Surely the other will fall for his charm and remain where he is. They've such a good thing going, why waste it? His beloved moves to protest  _(why must it hurt)_ and the demigod hastily tacks on - "Don't complain."

 

Patroclus stays and Achilles falls harder than ever.

* * *

 

Somewhere in between waking in his arms, kissing between bare shoulder blades, the taste of caramel and  _loving_ \-- life shifts. 

 

"This is terrible. I look terrible," Patroclus tugs at his t-shirt and pulls a face at the mirror. He is to attend an ill fated wedding that the elder has not been invited to. It's just as well - he hates crowds. 

"Come here," Achilles purrs, voice like velvet against the shell of the other's ear. He intertwines their hands  _(fate - we are bound together)_ and leads his beloved to a wardrobe on wheels. 

He winds his arms around Patroclus' waist and rests a chin on his shoulder. "Wear any of them that you like." Wear my clothes, sleep in my bed, let me take care of you.

The younger eyes the expensive clothing nervously. He is out of his depth. "You'll help, right?"

"Anything for you." 

You want the world? I'll catch it on a string. You want fancy suits and gourmet meals? I'll make it happen. You want me, always? I'm not going anywhere. 

 

 

Patroclus returns from the nuptials with a twinkle in his eye and pushes Achilles onto the bed. They waste no time in shedding clothes, Patroclus rambles as he works a belt buckle until Achilles kisses him senseless. There had been a forbidden union, he said and it had been magical. After, he'd wanted nothing more than to run home to fall into Achilles' arms. 

_I love him, I love him._

 

 

They're sticky and sated, limbs thrown over one another on the bed. Achilles is lying sideways with his head on the other's chest, feeling so in love that he might die from it. 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a romantic," he asks. 

Patroclus laughs and it's a beautiful melody that takes up residence in Achilles' heart. "Not really but I  _can_ quote romance lines without even thinking about it. And the plot of anything romance related - I can figure it out in 10 minutes flat. Or less."

Achilles rolls over, burying his face in a sweat chilled chest. He chuckles, the sound muffled by skin. "Don't."

"Where to begin, where to begin," Patroclus taunts. From there he launches into a long winded plot that he then connects to others until it's a giant web that makes Achilles' head hurt. When he can handle no more, he kisses Patroclus silent.

* * *

 

In every love story, tragedy is present also. 

 

The ginger girl is back with another request that Achilles will  _not_ budge on. Ask anything of him that does not involve potentially burying Patroclus and he will bend. Not him.  ** _Not him_** _._

 

The warning signs were there on the night he was betrayed. Patroclus' shaking hands, his utter disregard for Achilles' opinion, the angry glint in his eye. Not his Patroclus,  _hers._ The girl's version was gullible, desperate to please, willing to say yes to most anything. 

 

"You've betrayed me," Achilles grits. He felt as if he were swallowing poison one bitter drop at a time. How? Why? How. Why. _Did I not love you hard enough? Did I not give you everything I had? Did we not make love two nights before?_

"Is it too late to go back?"

Achilles wants to say  _No, God no. Apologize and we'll forget. Can we forget?_ but he has obligations to back up and coffins of their own people who'd been killed by the woman Patroclus betrayed him for. Not one but two - the ginger and a vile powerful woman who'd toyed with Achilles for years. 

"I'm afraid so."

Patroclus' eyes dart to the floor, ashamed. 

In that moment, all Achilles could see was crimson red - the color of bloodied tears and a shattered heart. 

"Kill them."

Patroclus bolted. 

 

(It was not supposed to end like this)

 

_Not him._

* * *

 

 Patroclus lives, Achilles is dying a slow death with everyday they are apart. He is hardly home anymore and when he is, no one wants him around because he's too wound up. His heart is bursting with bottled emotion, pain. 

 

He lasts nine days before he watches his beloved from afar. Patroclus is pale, thinner and noticeably miserable. The ginger girl has neglected him for another, predictably. 

 

(Achilles has yet to fall out of love)

* * *

 

 

Six months pass and Achilles is on the mend. He can now say Patroclus' name without growling, without retreating to fall apart in private. He leaves to do business and comes home at a decent hour, keeps watch over those in his care. It is not enough.

 

"Patroclus," he calls, knocking on a boathouse door. The place appears to have no working insulation or heating, he does not belong here. He should be home with their family, their once shared home. He should be  _safe._

The door creaks open to find a shadow of the one his heart loves. Patroclus puts on a cheery smile and tries to sell the  _I'm doing just fine without you_ act. Playing pretend has never been his strong suit. 

"Achilles!" He steps aside for the other to enter. 

The building is dusty with a slight draft and smells of gasoline. Canoes are stacked on either side and there is no furniture to speak of. It's awful.

"You haven't been eating," Achilles remarks. 

"I have...not much is all. I've been busy." Lying is another thing he fails at. He rubs his neck uncomfortably. "Why...? Why are you here? You want to kill me? Is that it?"

Achilles hadn't expected the words to stab quite that hard. He nearly checks his shirt for blood. "I called the order off the day you left," he confesses. He is tired and everything aches, he just wants Patroclus to come home.

"Oh...thanks."

Conversation had once flowed naturally between them but the passage of time has worn down the path. It's strained to say the least. Achilles is not an impulsive person but he finds himself blurting out his desire anyway.

 

 

"Come home, Patroclus. You need to eat and this place is disgusting." 

 

 

The other boy's mouth hangs open, brow arched in surprise. "I...um...why though? Not that I don't want to."

Why? Because it's too quiet, the bed is cold without you, I cannot sleep, I dream of your face twisted in betrayal, I wake up reaching. 

"I want you to. Is that not enough?"

Patroclus stares down at his feet, slender arms wrapping around himself protectively. "But you hate me. I don't understand." 

Words are not enough. They're too deep in this hole and the only way out is to  _move._ So he does. 

 _"Patroclus,"_ he murmurs, thumb tracing a chapped bottom lip. 

Everything clicks into place for the younger boy and he cautiously  _(please do not fear me - it hurts)_ wraps Achilles in an embrace that leaves them both feeling bruised. That's love - sometimes it's intense enough to damage. Patroclus pulls back, eyes on the other's parted lips. 

"Can I?"

Achilles cannot help but grin. They have been here before. "There's no need to ask."

The kiss is tender and sweet -- they melt into one another as if they'd never been parted. It deepens and becomes more teeth and tongue, passion ignites between them and Achilles tugs Patroclus onto the path leading home.

* * *

 

This time, they choose life. Achilles is one and whole again.

 

 


	4. love (is not) a devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angel blood is much too bitter or so I've heard. I prefer," he nipped at Simon's ear, blunt teeth on cool skin. "Something sweeter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fix it for 02x08 because I'm furious. also it's 3am and I'm drunk so disregard errors (and obviously I altered the storyline)

 

"Would you like to know what I saw?"

Simon peeled off his suit jacket, carelessly tossing it to the floor. It earned him a stern unamused glare with dark eyes darting from the clothing and back up. Who cares about the trippiest party of the year when an expensive suit is being carelessly discarded? A decades old vampire who was more concerned about clothing than mundanes, that's who. The younger vampire groaned, placing it in a wadded up ball on top of the wardrobe. 

"Tell me," Simon replied, all wide eyed innocence and puppy dog eyes. 

Raphael stretched out on the plush four poster bed and shrugged. He hadn't bothered removing his own jacket or shoes for that matter yet he seemed to blend into the deep purple blanket. Simon skimmed his eyes over the figure in appreciation, he really was beautiful. Sure, the party had been a bust but at least he had something to look forward to afterward. "You're not going to like it, baby." 

Simon shirked his shoes and crawled over his companion, teasing. "Was it me? Abusing your jackets? I bet that was it, wasn't it?" 

Raphael sighed heavily, draping an arm over his eyes. Some days he wonders why he even bothers with Simon Lewis. "First off, you're no longer allowed to touch them. You know that. Second, no. It was worse." 

"Spill it." 

"...Isabelle Lightwood forced me to feed on her."

Simon couldn't decide whether to laugh -- because honestly. If the two were alone together there would be hissing and only one would walk away. Or to give into the gnawing jealousy that grew into fruition with the words  _Isabelle_ and  _feed._ To drink from another person was symbolic of trust and affection or in some cases, desperation. Either way, the two of them only ever drank from one another. It was a mutual consensual decision, certainly not forced and that word. That one made him want to storm off and give the shadowhunter what for. 

"And you...did?" 

 

Raphael rolled over on his side, placing a hand on Simon's hip. His eyes were tinged with a regret he should not feel, he did not choose what he saw nor his actions therein. It was a hallucination and nothing more. "I would never. I don't do that, not since Camille." 

Simon sobered, grinning. "You don't even like shadowhunters." He scooted closer until their chests were touching, legs intertwined. This is how it should be, he thought. The two of us in this bed -- coming home and picking up the pieces again and again until we get it right. The chandelier, his jacket neatly folded, mine tossed aside. The weight of him, of us. How easily loving him is - instinctual. 

Raphael crinkled his nose. "They would taste terrible. Angel blood is much too bitter or so I've heard. I prefer," he nipped at Simon's ear, blunt teeth on cool skin. "Something sweeter." 

In Simon's hallucination he'd saw his companion dressed in midnight black with a dark teal button up. His dark eyes were glimmering, hand outstretched. When Simon took it, the room disappeared and suddenly they were at Magnus' loft, alone. Gone were the guests and noise, not a single soul remained. The french doors let in a warm breeze and sensual music played in the background. Neither said a word as they began to sway to the beat. If he were to describe it in a single word he'd say it was heavenly. Magnus had explained to them after the disaster of a party that the hallucinagenic could either reveal your greatest desire or the very opposite. For Raphael it had been the latter. In no universe would he allow a shadowhunter to weaken him enough to break his own set-in-stone morals. 

"I saw _you_ ," Simon whispered. 

Raphael nuzzled into his neck and Simon felt rather than saw him smile. "Me?"

Goosebumps stood up on the younger vampire's arm as he allowed his head to fall back further. "That's...good. You should keep doing that."

"And?"

"...and what?"

Raphael pulled back enough to look in his eye, impatient. "You were saying-"

If Simon were a mundane still he'd be pink from head to toe. He wasn't good at this romantic sort of thing or words for that matter, much less revealing such a personal event. Or non event as it were. "Oh, that. Yeah...anyway you were there and...this is silly but...we danced. You looked really good...like _really_ good. And there was music playing but I'm not sure where it came from?"

He'd expected a scoff at the classic cliche romantic fantasy -- with Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome and suggestive music but instead, Raphael tugged him to his feet.

"What are we...? Rafe, no you don't wanna do this. I can't dance. I elbowed a girl in the chest at prom once and she hated me after-"

Raphael rolled his eyes and ignored his lousy excuses.

They began to sway. 

 

 

 

 


	5. don't wanna be dead (with you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael Santiago wakes in a dirt filled grave and emerges to meet the world's most ridiculous clan leader, Simon Lewis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all credit goes to downworldofpain (tumblr)

Predictably, dirt tasted repulsive. It was in Raphael's beautiful (now disheveled) hair, his newly minted Givenchy [boots](http://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/1/product_assets/N/3/H/C/R/NMN3HCR_mu.jpg), under his fingernails, on his  _lips._ He spat on the ground growled under his breath. Who in the  _hell_ had buried him? Yes he'd sprouted fangs what felt like overnight, developed an unsettling craving for human blood and lost the warmth of his own skin but this? This was overkill.

Did that mean-

 

\--

Simon Lewis, leader of the New York vampire clan, beamed at him. They'd met before under unfortunate circumstances, what with the devil woman _killing_ Raphael and Simon kidnapping him. Not in that order. He'd introduced himself on day one as if it were nothing more than a game to him, _'Lewis. Simon Lewis. Two first names.'_ It shouldn't have made the mundane blush but Raphael had felt his cheeks heating up anyway.

\--

 

The other boy wore a soft black t-shirt that read  _Bite Me_ in white bold lettering on the front and- was that? Yes. Sunglasses at night, in a cemetery. "Morning, sunshine," Simon beamed. He then waggled a finger in the fledglings direction and clucked his tongue. "Oh that's right, no sunlight for you."

Raphael hissed. His gums ached and the gritty taste of dirt was beginning to get to him. The last thing he needed was a cheerful vampire. Hold up. _Vampire-_

"I'm a-" he began to pat his jacket as if something there might prove his conclusion wrong. "...oh G-d." The name of God made his throat burn like fire, he couldn't finish it. "Why can't I say it?" He demanded, pounding the earth with his fists. 

Simon had the decency about him to look distraught (it fit awkwardly on his normally chipper face). "Shi-did you just realize? I thought you knew...the whole grave thing with the ominous fog and all. It's like pet cemetery except instead of a cat, you're a human but hopefully you're not homicidal." The clan leader backed up slightly as Raphael growled. "Or maybe you are. What am I, an expert?" He laughed, nervously. 

Raphael was starving, hungrier than he'd ever thought possible and right now the tall boy before him was looking a lot like dinner. He pulled himself to his feet, intent upon stalking over to the other. And then something smacked him in the chest. 

And another hit a nearby gravestone. 

.

.

"Y'know...if you eat me it won't be all magical like when Lestat turned Louis and they floated. It's a real bummer but we can't actually fly. You _could_ drink from me, I mean I wouldn't say no. It won't kill me but it'll be really messy." Simon gestured at Raphael's ruined suit. "But uh I see you've got that undertaken already. Get it? Undertaker?"

Raphael clenched his jaw, Simon gulped. "...be-because we're dead," he added, physically unable to _not_ finish a bad joke.  "Um, you should drink those Capri Sun things. They're actually blood." He rocked back on his heels, proud as punch. "Premium quality, nothing but the best for my little bitty angry fledgling." 

He continued to clumsily toss them in Raphael's direction which meant the newborn vampire had to move this way and that to collect them. Nonetheless Raphael drained every last one of them sloppily, not even caring about scrubbing blood stains from his suit. When he'd finished, Simon removed his sunglasses to reveal warm brown eyes, a tussle of brunette waves. The idiota was handsome if not annoying. And then he opened his mouth.

"Sooo," he began as if he were dishing out the latest gossip. "-being a vampire  _sucks._ " 

That was the last straw in a heap of them. Raphael launched himself at the boy and slammed him against a nearby tree. Whoa, where did  _that_ come from? Maybe he was a monster, what kind of creature survives death anyway? An inhuman one.

"If I didn't respect my mama-" He peered at the inky black sky for half a second before returning to the sorry excuse of a ~~really hot~~ person in front of him. "-I would make you swallow your own ignorance."

Simon further infuriated him by chuckling. He made a show of surrender, palms up. "No can do, can't consume anything that doesn't come with a biohazard sticker."

This was what Raphael had to look forward to for eternity. Hell. Wordlessly, he released the harebrained leader and stalked away. The grave was cool and dark when he mounted the 3 steps and laid down. From this view, he could see the stars plain as day. 

Daylight that he would never see. A deity he could not speak of, a family he'd left behind, a foolish clan leader with the kind of face that deserved a firm kiss to teach him a lesson or two. This was his life. It wasn't looking good so far. 

"What? You gonna sleep there now, Dracula? 'Cause I feel it's my duty to inform you that some poor innocent soul  _will_ find you and assume you're dead. Er. They'll bury you for real this time with a casket and all. _We_ have caskets at DuMort - 14k gold! But they're in bedrooms because we're civilised and- hey. That's a nice jacket and you could probably salvage it with some good-"

Oh for-

Raphael's mouth was a tangy gritty blend of blood and dirt and he'd had better days. Nights. He was caught somewhere between making a run for it (where would he even go?) and tossing mounds of dirt over his body until he slowly wasted away. If that were even possible. His future seemed to narrow down to one adorably awkward boy with a smile that could light up the moon. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Simon held out a hand and he took it."Fine. FINE. If it makes you shut up, I'll get out." 

The awkward clan leader held onto it, much to Raphael's irritation. He was smiling again, amused over some thing or another bouncing around in that head of his. It must be like a funhouse carnival in there. "Hey if you're Edward, does that make me Bella? 'Cause I don't really care for her, too whiny."

Raphael cocked his head to the side threateningly, "Don't ever compare me to that guy. Do I  _look_ sparkly to you?" 

Simon's eyes swept over him, appraising - slowly, ever so slowly. He let out a wolf whistle of appreciation and Raphael never wanted to simultaneously kiss and strangle a person more. Here he was looking worse for the wear, dirt smudged with a ring of blood around his collar, hair flattened and smelling of fresh soil. He was far from runway material. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of heat in caramel eyes before they lit up in amusement. Simon Lewis was impossible. 

"Lily has some glittery dusting powder if you want-"

Raphael snarled.

.

.

Simon shook his head, "Or-or not. We should get outta here before some nosy-body sees us. Come on, I'll show you around your new home. You're gonna love it. Okay so we have deep freezers in most of the rooms and a really ugly gold couch that Elliot is attached to because  _'It's over a hundred years old, Lewis. Have some respect'_ \- God. Don't even ask. Anyway as I mentioned, we do have caskets but I called ahead and we arranged some things. You're now the proud owner of a My Little Pony bed." 

They began to walk, still hand in hand. 

Raphael balked at the idea of a cartoon themed bed. "Excuse me?"

"That was a joke. Just trying to loosen you up is all. You do have a bed though, I ordered it myself. I, uh, I didn't like the idea of your soul being trapped or staking you so you're now a card carrying member of the NY clan. You've got a lot to learn but I can train you, I'm pretty good at it," Simon babbled. 

How he got from bed to training was beyond Raphael. Listening to him speak was exhausting in itself. Still he found himself asking - 

"Do _you_ sleep in a bed?" 

They passed others on the way there and Raphael struggled against the combined scent of their blood. He could smell  _everything._ Simon tightened his grip and pulled him flush against his shoulder, protectively. 

"I'm not a fan of closed up spaces," Simon confessed. 

That was a yes then. The thought thrilled Raphael for reasons he couldn't pinpoint - every feeling felt as if it were amped up to eleven. The last time he felt such a tug in his body was when puberty hit and even a gust of wind got him excited. Then again, none of the passing strangers appealed to him outside of a taste for blood.  _Simon_ stood in a category of his own.

Raphael nodded. "My brother has that issue." 

"You have siblings?"

The fledgling scoffed. "I'm the oldest of seven boys." 

" _SEVEN??_ " 

"It never felt like a lot," Raphael murmured. He lapsed into silence, unable to speak their names without feeling a knot in his throat. He was dead now, no heartbeat. Perhaps with time he could watch over them from the shadows. 

.

.

They arrived at a shadowy red building that looked more like a construction site than a hotel.

Simon leaned over and whispered in his fledglings ear, "Welcome home." 

Goosebumps popped up on Raphael's arm. I can make this work, he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit: https://downworldofpain.tumblr.com/post/157425730186/but-what-if-the-roles-were-reversed-and-simon-was


	6. baby, won't you be my date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael isn't aware they're on a date.

_-_

_Our hearts beat so loud the neighbors think we’re fucking_  
_when I’m just trying to find the nerve to touch your face_

([x](http://ohandreagibson.tumblr.com/post/34782309919/pansies-i-was-holding-my-heart-in-the-palms-of))

_-_

 

The massive screen displays a black and white landscape with the words,  _It Happened One Night_ and the name Clark Gable. Background music soars, cheerful and dramatic. 

Simon blindly pats Raphael's arm without looking away from the screen and holds out his hand. "Gimme one," he whispers.

The cinema is nearly empty aside from a handful of the elderly reliving the glamour and glitz of their youth on the big screen. It's Wednesday which means half priced tickets and classic films, Simon is thrilled. He'd made sure to call in advance, to ensure he had the hours right before dragging Raphael from DuMort. This will be their first time at the cinema together and earlier, Simon already had to bite his tongue to keep from hissing at girls in passing as they ogled Raphael. How dare they even assume? 

Raphael makes sure the coast is clear and only then does he pass a bag along. It's ironic that the cinema reminds viewers not to bring an outside food or drink because blood doesn't fall into that category for mundanes. 

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into bringing them," Raphael hisses. 

Simon sips at his bag of blood, perfectly content to stay like that for as long as possible. Raphael is at his side, the movie already seems promising and did he mention _Raphael is there?_ "What's a movie without a few snacks?"

"Most people smuggle in Twix bars, Simon. Not a fun pack of some poor guy's blood." 

Simon then heard the top of a bag pop off, inaudibly to the mundanes. 

"Yeah that's what I thought," he teases. Raphael ignores him, choosing to focus on the movie instead.

-

 

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, the main leads are bickering and using a blanket as a curtain between their sleeping spaces but Simon doesn't notice. For that matter he's not sure when he stopped watching the screen and started watching Raphael. The older vampire cracked a smile as the couple surrendered, removing the makeshift barrier. 

What would it feel like to taste that happiness, Simon wonders. And then -  _it is a date after all._

Brazenly, he darts forward and presses his cold lips to Raphael's cheek. It lasts less than a second but sets his nerves ablaze. The elder vampire inhales sharply and promptly takes Simon by the hand, dragging him out of the dark room. 

I've royally messed up, Simon thinks. This is the end; I'm going to die in some dark alleyway by way of a homicidal vampire who's probably as straight as one of Alec's prized arrows and yeah I'm dead for good this time. Raphael collects their trash in an insulated bag and says nothing. His face remains annoyingly devoid of emotion as he takes them around corners and down a sidewalk until they hit - ah. A darkened alleyway. 

Lovely. Simon couldn't go out in a more dramatic way, say a sword fight or boldly mouthing off to a bear of a man. No, his death would be as incredibly ordinary as his life. Well, life before Raphael. 

-

 

"If you kill me my mom will notice and she'll know it was you because of the coffee shop. Y'know...that time you met her and had that empty cup of coffee that you dumped in the trash which was rude by the way because it costs a lot and money doesn't grow on trees," Simon stammers, unable to stop his nervous chattering. Apparently nervous Simon sounds a lot like his mother. 

Raphael growls and crowds him up against the far right side of a building, effectively shutting him up. Yup, he's done for.

"Why did you do that, Simon?" 

"I-It's a classic and seeing as you're really old-"

Raphael clenches his jaw.

Simon continues, "It's in black and white so I thought you might've watched it before...um...before you died. And I wanted to take you out somewhere nice but whatda'ya know? No one around here sells AB+ cocktails but maybe we can have some at home? If-if you don't kill me first."

Raphael's facial expressions flicker between confusion and a vague understanding of what Simon's motives were for tonight. Eventually, he relaxes and even smirks which is slightly more unsettling than angry Raphael.

"Not the movie, _idioto._ You  _kissed_ me. Most people tend to go on a date first," he says.

Their chests are nearly touching and Simon is close enough to smell Raphael's cologne, his pomade, the stain of blood on his tongue. It's heady and he's almost positive you could bottle it and make everyone within a 5 mile radius swoon. Timing, he chides himself. 

The clan leader has yet to murder him or even move away and Simon isn't sure what direction they're going but he thinks he might like it. 

"You would've said no." 

Raphael gives him one of his patented  _You're not so bright_ looks and Simon feels hopeful. 

" _Weeks_  I spent training you and yet you fail to notice."

Simon rallies himself for a protest because he _has_ been training, thank you very much. "This  _was_ a date until you so rudely ruined it with your...your  _rudeness._ And we didn't even finish the movie and now you're going to smoosh me into the pavement before I can even find out how it ends."

Raphael opens his mouth to speak and Simon overrides him as usual. Emotions boil up in him and spill out before he can stop his treasonous tongue. Raphael brought this upon himself, he thinks. "Noo, 'cause _somebody_ couldn't even wait until the end. You should be ashamed of yourself, it's practically a cardinal sin to not finish a movie. And I-I was _invested_ in it." 

The clan leader crossed his arms over his chest. Never had Simon kissed such an onary person who legitimately got mad at him for showing affection. But then, he tries not to think too hard about their dynamic. 

-

 

Simon is speechless for the first time (possibly) since he first mastered the English language. Raphael purposely dodges the elephant in the room with an unrivaled grace that makes Simon's body want to do sinful things to that mouth. "First off, you spent the entire time staring at my neck." He cannot meet Simon eye to eye or the younger vampire would know in a hot second and the doe eyed fledgling should never have that much power. It's bad enough that every every room in DuMort smells of him - pleasant and calming with a hint of nervous tension, making a clean break for it impossible. Still, in a way, he follows Simon everywhere and is  _damn_ happy to exist by his side. 

"And you want to date me," Raphael says calmly. It's more of a statement than a question, solid as a rock to Simon's quaking body. 

He nods. "That, uh, that was the plan for tonight but obviously it went so wrong and I shouldn't have listened to Cl-" 

Raphael loathes the shadowhunter though any bad blood between them disappeared some six years ago after she'd taken a delirious Simon into her home. She'd kept him from recklessly attempting to feel the sun again and called Raphael not even 15 minutes later. Without her, Simon would be an empty bed and a gaping hole in Raphael's chest. 

"Don't," the elder vampire warns softly. Clary Fairchild would not ruin another moment for them or so help him...

Simon wrings his hands nervously and Raphael wants to stuff them in his own back pockets and ks him until the fledgling no longer remembers his best friend's name. Also,  _date_ him?  _Dios,_ Simon is more ignorant than he'd thought (or not). The last true date he had was in the early 1950's and even that had burned to ashes. It was just as well; the date had ended with an awkward kiss on her cheek and his eyes wide open through it. He's out of his depth here but God knows he's giving it his best shot. 

Please don't leave me, he thinks.

"I would like that." 

 -

 

Simon kicks away from the wall and into Raphael's outstretched arms. When their lips meet for the first time, Simon moans instinctively (his body remembers a soft touch and nearly inky black eyes) and suddenly everything is  _Raphael._

Within minutes, the older vampire cups his cheeks in both hands and treats Simon to a rare open mouth kiss. When his tongue touches Simon's, the younger vampire slides down the wall a few inches in an unbroken chorus of _Raphael. Raphael. Raphael_.  From there it becomes a sloppy hopeless kiss that Simon will complain about years from now just for the hell of it but Raphael can't be bothered enough to care. 

Like it or not, Simon Lewis is his touchstone. His one in one in five billion (who's the scully in _our_ relationship, he thinks. he  _has_ to stop watching X-Files with Simon,  _dios_ _._  the fledgling is corrupting him). 

"There's no time like the present," Raphael murmurs as he breaks the kiss. 

Simon blinks. "Are you asking me out on a date or are we talking about linear time or intergalactic time travel? 'Cause I'd take either any of them."

Seconds pass as Raphael works up the nerve to answer. Give him a clan to rule, a dagger to polish, a rogue vampire to hunt - none of them would add up to how utterly terrified Simon Lewis makes him. The beautiful stubborn fledgling slides a hand down Raphael's expensive suit (hmm that one is new) and laces their hands together.

"Let's eliminate the first two entirely," the elder vampire says with a playful smirk.

Less than 5 minutes later, they make a mad dash for Hotel DuMort and lock the door to Raphael's lavish living space behind them.

 

-

They never finish the movie.

(Their next date includes an expensive restaurant with tapered candles and Raphael carrying a tipsy Simon home, bridal style)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "it happened one night" debuted in 1934 and is one of my most favorite movies
> 
> fact: simon would def force raphael to watch x-files with him and insist on keeping a lamp on, fight me
> 
> very important pertinent information: andrea gibson + youtube, you're welcome (she's an lgbt poet with words that leave me speechless) or you can find her work here:  
> http://ohandreagibson.tumblr.com


	7. you don't have to hurt me tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not ready to get over you, I shouldn't have to say it  
> God knows I've swallowed enough knives in my lifetime and yours bled the hardest
> 
> (still)
> 
> I cannot help but come back for more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post betrayal reunion because love is worth fighting for and they're too stubborn to give up
> 
> POV Raphael

 

-

 _'I screwed around and lost you,'_ you confess. ' _I had so many plans for us'_

your hands are ice when they graze the back of my palm and I wonder if it hurts when the body becomes Winter

when jigsawed snowflakes pierce through the ashen veil of your skin

I should know this, our scars are a matching pair after all 

you scratch your neck nervously and I want to pull the fear out of you like a red string

until the remains fall into a heap on the floor, _it's a portrait of us isn't it?_

(you let go)

- 

I'm still holding on long after your own hands bury themselves in your own soft brunette waves

I am not ready to get over you, I shouldn't have to say it

God knows I've swallowed enough knives in my lifetime and yours bled the hardest

(still)

I cannot help but come back for more

 -

I lost my filter the minute midnight eyes fell upon your sunshine heart and truly knew what it meant to burn

(for you)

I speak like crushed dandelions under your foot

slowly coming to terms with the knowledge that your love has the power to maim

_'you never said'_

 you're relentless, pacing like an angry god in a cage

conviction rattles and reverberates in my bones as you whisper, voice hushed in the moonlight,

_'none of them work without you'_

 -

I'm tired enough for my starving hands to reach for your hungry wrists

  _'put down the dagger,'_ I plead

 the dagger is the first night we met -- blood calling to blood like sirens to lonely fishermen

the dagger is where the pain lives 

_' -you don't have to hurt me tonight.'_

 the war is over, _mi amor,_ we can go home now. see the man in the moon, how he waves a white flag of surrender

see how our bodies collapse on a battlefield of our own making

 -

 you stumble and I remember your limp body in my arms, _'_ _baby, don't fall'_

(I will always save you) 

 be my victory kiss, my sunday mass on bent knee, my forgiven-

 _'I'm sorry,'_ you say

_'I'm sorry'_

_'I'm sorry'_

I swallow the words, tongue against the syllables, teeth on your lips, wall hard against your back

(we bleed together, we have always bled together)

two wayward words twist their way into cool skin where your shirt rides up as you tremble in my arms

(alive, we are so alive tonight)

I speak them into being; a doublet of letters that bind us, frozen heartbeat to the ghost of a stuttering pulse

_'I'm here'_

(I love you)

(I'm here) 

 


	8. jace wayland's lonely heart club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cynical face eyed him with as much dignity as a shirtless man in a canoe on dry land could. Strike that. Shirtless vampire. “Shadowhunter,” he said coldly.

Jace barged in through the boathouse’ carelessly unlocked excuse for a door, careful to close out the sunlight behind him. By the angel, he loathed asking for assistance especially from Simon as the guy was a walking trainwreck but these things cannot be helped. He absolutely was _not_ lonely. He nudged a 2x4 with his foot, cringing when a rat skittered past. Who could exist in such a dump? Simon had once resided at the lavish Hotel DuMort with it’s five star mixed drinks (he shudders) and clothing that wouldn’t be out of place on the runway and now? This. How far the mighty have fallen, he thought.

 

“Lewis, I need your help with something.”

 

He had to be there, where else would he have ventured? Clary was off on a daytrip with Isabelle, Magnus and Alec were making use of the apartment and it was daylight out so he couldn’t possibly be visiting family. Jace peered around dusty equipment and dodged random items that _most_ people don’t sleep around -- like cans of gasoline.

“I know you’re here,” he stated, poking at empty canoes. Suddenly a brunette popped up from a canoe at the very top without so much as a rustling of movement.

A cynical face eyed him with as much dignity as a shirtless man in a canoe on dry land could. Strike that. Shirtless _vampire._ “Shadowhunter,” he said coldly.

Jace shook his head, puzzled at the turn of events. “Why are you even here? Where’s Simon? I thought you guys-”

And then it became a million times more awkward, Jace immediately regretted every life decision that led up to this point. Simon sat up, hair mussed and neck smeared with blood. Apparently he’d lost his shirt as well in what certainly was _not_ a fight. Rather than endlessly releasing a flood of babbling excuses that Jace wouldn’t buy for a second, Simon beamed. From this angle he almost appeared healthier, less pale if that were possible. “Jace!”

“Not sure whether to congratulate the happy couple or send my condolences,” he replied dryly. Loneliness made him bitter, petty. Everywhere he turned, there were couples. He’d die alone, pining after his own sister, that was fine. Life was just swell.

Raphael clenched his jaw and honestly, Jace was rearing for a fight. There was an excess of energy building up in Jace that seemed to bleed into everything. God, what was his deal? He didn’t even hate the guy, barely knew him well enough to form an opinion one way or another.

Simon flattened a hand on Raphael’s chest and the clan leader softened immediately. His gaze flickered to the younger vampires as if on cue and Simon tilted his head to the side in an unspoken conversation. It ended with Raphael rolling his eyes and Simon hopping down effortlessly. _Oh,_ thought Jace. It’s like that. He opened his mouth to speak and Jace cut him off.

“I apologize,” the blonde offered.

Raphael threw Simon a t-shirt from the top and sprung over the edge without bothering to replace his own. Jace suddenly found the far left wall terribly interesting when the younger vampire’s gaze swept over Raphael’s body. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt more uncomfortable.

Seemingly oblivious or too used to it to care, Raphael folded his arms across his chest and pegged Jace with indifference. “You really shouldn’t go around barging in without an invitation,” he stated, brows creased.

“I need Simon’s help.”

Raphael stepped in front of his - his _whatever_ protectively and all but growled in Jace’s direction. “No can do, shadowhunter.”

Normally, at this point in the narrative Simon would bend and surrender himself to the cause. Instead, he squeezed Raphael’s bicep gently and there it was again -- that silent bond when words were not needed. Raphael turned in Simon's direction and gazed at him in a way that can only be described as _dreamy_ and _awkward as hell._

“We’re going over some stuff...um.” Simon shrugged, face contorting as it did when he was lying. “...vampire politics, business. Sorting which blood tastes like flowers or cigarettes because we have a system-”

Raphael groaned and Jace nearly felt sorry for the man for having to follow Simon’s babbling on the daily. The clan leader’s body language was hostile, irritated at having to loan Simon out to the shadowhunters _again_ . Trust him, if Jace had known any of this, he would’ve hung back at Magnus’ lavish loft. “For God’s-sake, _yes_ you interrupted. I’m sure the institute will not collapse into ruin if you work alone for once, you don’t need him.”

 Jace met his eyes and noticed a flicker of residual pain in the stormy dark eyes -- a heartbreak Jace knew on a personal level. Santiago was right, Jace needed to strike out on his own and prove to himself and everyone else that he was worth a damn. If he were lucky, the universe would drop a person in his lap.

“Nevermind, it can wait. I’ll text you soon, Lewis.”  

Simon stammered his way through an apology, having yet to master the fine art of using the word  _No._ "-and so, we'll do this the day after tomorrow. After sunset, that is."

Jace's face fell, against his will. He'd planned on perhaps knocking out the problem (that honestly, he could've solved on his own) tonight, the longest one of the year it felt like. "That's fine." 

Having changed his mind on something, the elder vampire tugged Simon away for an impromptu super secret conversation Jace wasn't privy to. He'd turned on his heel to leave when they whipped around at the same time. They really were connected by some sort of invisible string.

"Jace Wayland," Raphael said matter of factly. Jace didn't care for the overly formal way in which he was addressed but that was neither here nor there. He reluctantly faced the couple. The shorter man continued, "There's a coffee shop on 23rd. Be there at 7:45 tonight."

Simon hung on Raphael's every word, mesmerized. And Jace didn't know how the hell to respond. "Pardon?"

Raphael held his chin up high, dignified in a ratty boathouse with a missing shirt that had yet to materialize. "We're having coffee," he clarified. 

Fantastic. He'd landed a starring role as the third wheel, just what he'd always never wanted. "I'm going to pass on that." 

Simon rolled his eyes, apparently having picked up the habit from Raphael. "It's not like that. We need to get together to talk about what you need me for, right?" 

It would do Jace some good to get away, to have a distraction even if that meant watching two romantic blood suckers make heart eyes at one another. Not to mention, there was a white chocolate mocha he'd been meaning to try there. "Sure."

Simon grinned, sharp teeth exposed like an overly excited puppy. Jace could see the appeal in that. He was the sunshine to Santiago's perpetual dark rain cloud. "Really? Great!!" 

Still, there was only so much happiness he could stand. "Okay, I'm going now. By the way, I have a shirt if you want to borrow it," he teased. Raphael glared though it wasn't as harsh as before. With that, Jace saw himself out.

 

One less lonely Thursday night, he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts so I figured I'd publish it while I work on a prompt. jace just needs a little love, you understand.


	9. they think my lover is strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (but I don't have to fucking tell them anything)
> 
> (4 times fic)
> 
> In which Simon and Raphael have a passive aggressive relationship and the others misunderstand.

  **-**

 

**1)**

If there's anything Simon has learned about falling in love with a fellow downworlder, it's that the world will never understand them. That sentiment is especially true when it comes to shadowhunters misinterpreting. 

Clary crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side, angry on behalf of her best friend. "Why do you let him treat you like that?"

Simon misses her question at first as he's grinning like an idiot at the fading image of Raphael's contact photo. "What'd you say?"

She's acting like a seven year old on the playground, complaining to the teacher about her scrawny friend being bullied. Her heart is in the right place but he's in no danger.  She purses her lips into a thin line. "I have ears, you know. I heard him say mean things."

Simon shrugs, pocketing his phone. "He couldn't find his favorite shirt. Y'know, the black one with the little thingies? Flowers? Tiny black flowers? Three buttons at the top? No?"

Green eyes widen at him as Clary's brows shoot skyward. "That doesn't justify calling you an idiot, Simon." 

He makes an effort to wipe the smile from his face for her behalf 'lest she think he's completely lost his marbles and allows himself to be mistreated. Suddenly he misses DuMort, he never has to explain himself there. The clan pay their antics and snipping no attention anymore.

"I took his shirt," Simon laughs. He's the child here but Raphael is his source of entertainment, getting him worked up is their flirting. Where most couples have pet names and sweet nothings, he and Raphael have  _idiota_ and  _your dumb ass._

Clary groans and walks away without another word.

* * *

 

**2)**

Raphael leans against his own desk where Simon is seated. The younger vampire is taking his sweet time crunching numbers and going back to retrace numbers in boxes just for the hell of it. It's getting under Raphael's skin, he can tell by the tap-tap-tapping of nails on the black walnut desk. Raphael _never_ fidgets. 

The clan leader catches on quickly. Two can play at that game. He peers over Simon's shoulder, making sure to breathe into his ear. It never fails to make his fledgling melt and thoroughly distract him. "If you worked on inventory as much as you daydream, we might have a full supply of B+."

Simon shivers. The number 5 he'd been retracing for the third time ended up looking like a mangled 8.  "If _you_ worked on your people skills, others might not think you're a crazed serial killer." 

Raphael edges closer, their shoulders brushing. "If I'm homicidal, you're to blame." 

Your move, Lewis.

Simon begins to write the type of blood, painfully slow. "Oh come off it. You wouldn't hurt a fly." Raphael bites his own lip.

"I kidnapped you," he states matter of factly. 

Simon shrugs one shoulder without looking up. "I'll give you that much but I didn't die so it only counts as half." 

Raphael traces the tip of a nail over a patch of exposed skin at the nape of Simon's neck. The fledgling drops his pen and the tips of his ears turn a pleasant pink shade. Mm, it's working. "I could kill you right now. You know how much I would enjoy it, don't test me." 

Somewhat.

The younger vampire takes up his pen again and tilts his head to the side as he writes. The position makes his neck incredibly deliciously appealing and he  _knows_ Raphael is practically falling over himself right now, he doesn't even have to look up.

Raphael moves closer until he's standing directly behind Simon. The tips of his fangs graze a pale neck and Simon loses the game. He blindly cups the back of Raphael's head and presses his face into the crook of his neck. God, he's going to explode right there in Raphael's chair if he doesn't-

"Move," Simon demands. He feels a low chuckle against his skin before Raphael sinks his fangs in, moaning. 

Raphael Santiago and his affectionately insulting method of seduction has ruined Simon for anyone else.

* * *

 

  **3)**

Jace and Alec exchange a shocked glance. Meanwhile, Magnus continues nursing his blue velvet martini without a care in the world. 

Alec arches a brow at his parabatai. "Should we do something?"

"I don't know, man. I'm not getting involved."

-

 

"Say it," Raphael growls. He has a stronghold on Simon -- one arm is behind his back and the other is scratching at Raphael's hand which happens to be holding a sharp instrument. Strangely enough, neither seem concerned about the situation. 

Simon manages to free one arm and uses it to tug at Raphael's hair. "I won't."

 -

 

Jace smirks, reclining on Magnus' sofa. "I feel like we should make some popcorn." Alec doesn't dignify that with an actual response. Next to him, Magnus casually flips through a dusty book that's likely older than everyone in the room but him. 

-

 

"Oh but you  _will,"_ Raphael purrs, smooth and threatening at the same time. 

Simon squirms in hopes of escaping. "Nope, not happening. I said it looks like crap and I stand by that."

The sharp instrument (a metal cocktail stirrer of all things because naturally, small and deadly -- sounds familiar) lightly trails over Simon's collarbone. Next, Raphael drags it up the curve of his neck. The edge pricks Simon's neck and releases a tiny stream of blood. 

 

 

"You didn't tell me you had a subscription to the porn channel," Jace teased. Alec turned bright red and fled to the kitchen.

 

 

Raphael's tongue darted out to make featherlight contact with the wound. "Say it, Simon. I'd hate for you to bleed on Magnus' new rug. He had it imported from Naples, what a shame." 

Magnus clucks his tongue at them, now having landed on a page that peaked his interest. "My vial of vampire hair is empty, boys," he threatened. Ruin my rug, I'll ruin your pretty hair. 

Simon moaned, low and soft as Raphael roughly pushed him against the wall. "It's big, okay? Your hair is big." 

Jace snorted, earning him an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Magnus.

Raphael's eyes darkened into an almost black shade, "Try again."

"It's big and it's really hot and I only said it 'cause I knew you'd do this now can we please go home? I'm not okay with Jace watching, no offense Jace."

The shadowhunter grinned and held up his hands, not offended in the least. Free entertainment is free entertainment but he's not about that voyeurism life. 

Raphael licked a hot strip up Simon's neck where the blood trickled freely. So maybe he likes to put on a show when it comes to Simon, maybe he wants the world to know that this beautiful jerk of a boy is his. 

"Please," Simon pleads, needy and desperate. 

They were out the door before Alec returned with a mug of tea in hand and a puzzled, "What the hell just happened?"

* * *

 

**4)**

"I love you so much," Raphael begins. On the other end of the line, Simon waits. "-that it makes me hate you."

 Simon is helping Clary with a problem at the institute for a few hours and even that is two hours too long. His phone rings some ten minutes after entering the institute and a smooth sexy voice begins a conversation like they never left it. They don't even bother with hello's and goodbyes anymore. On the rare occasion that a  _goodbye and goodnight_ slips through, it's because they're genuinely on bad terms. 

Clary is searching her phone for a photo of a new rune she'd encountered in enemy territory. She stands within hearing range and Simon is oblivious as ever. 

"I hate you too," he says. 

Her head jerks up, prepared to snatch the phone if need be. 

Raphael switches gears, suddenly recalling why he'd called. Not that he needs a reason. "There's a hole in my jacket, Simon."

"You called me to bitch about your jacket? It's been like five minutes, Rafe." He can hear clothes hangers being shuffled about in the background. It's the third Wednesday of another month then. That's when Raphael rotates his vast collection of designer clothing. 

" _Twenty minutes_ but that's not the point."

Simon rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Between the two of them and a rather sweaty morning, they'd collectively shared four hours of uninterrupted sleep. He's exhausted beyond measure. 

Having had enough, Clary snatches the phone from his hand. "Baby, listen. Next time you decide to attack me in the lobby at least keep your fangs in your mouth until I can take off my clothes. That's the third jacket you've ruined this month and yes I  _am_ counting." 

Clary gasps into the phone and Raphael laughs. "Hello to you too, Clary Fray."

She shoves the phone at Simon's chest and walks away, wide eyed and knowing  _way_ too much.

-

 

From that point on, she minds her own business and doesn't make assumptions as to how downworlder dating works. 

 

-

 

 


	10. 3 times Simon enters Raphael's room +1 time he stays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stewart deserves a raise for having to deal with the fledgling and his 'let me into Raphael's rooms' drama.

 

Raphael Santiago is a very private man.

He does not allow just  _anyone_ into his private chambers and when he does it's for a meeting or to discuss sensitive business matters. Which is why the baby of the family emerging from their clan leaders room struck Stewart as odd. He'd held post at Raphael's rooms for over twenty years and could count the people who'd been invited in, on one hand. 

 

**1)**

The first time it happened he chalked it up to Raphael trying to comfort his fledgling and make him feel safe in a brand new environment. That was one week in and they were already glued at the hip. Of the three of them, not one brought it up the next day. 

* * *

 

**2)**

The second time involves one Simon Lewis pleading with Stewart to "Just open it, please. It's really important." 

Stewart scowls at the young vampire's unfortunate clothing. They're  _vampires_ for heaven's sake, they're meant to be beautiful and sensual rather than giving off the appearance of having raided a nearby thrift store and throwing on whatever fit. Currently he's clothed in a blue t-shirt with the tiniest image of sharp fangs on the left breast-pocket and a pair of Raphael's sweats. His bare toes wiggle on the floor and  _God._ He's the epitome of what vampires are  _not._

"He's sleeping," Stewart clips coldly. 

The fledgling isn't terribly irritating but he carries life within his bones, the white of his teeth, the cautious glint in his eye. It makes Stewart bitter with jealousy because he cannot remember what being alive even felt like, much less carrying that knowledge past the grave. 

Simon holds up a finger. "Just gimme one minute and I'll go back to bed. Come on, don't make me beg. You know you wanna." 

Stewart feels his resolve weakening. Raphael will not kill the fledgling;  _that_ he'd hedge his bets on. He might snap at him and get in his personal space (only ever Simon's) but he'd never purposely hurt Simon. 

"If you're not out in five minutes I'm coming in after you," the elder vampire threats. If he's lucky, this won't come back to bite him.

Simon practically bounces in excitement as Stewart steps aside for him to enter. 

-

 

It has been ten minutes and the way Stewart sees it, it went one of two ways. One, Raphael is busy mounting Simon's head on the wall. Or two --Stewart would rather not entertain  _that_ scenario. Don't get him wrong, he's thrilled if it's the latter. Well maybe not  _thrilled_ but he'd accept it if need be. He has a hand on the doorknob when it opens unexpectedly. 

Raphael doesn't look any different nor is he seething mad. From this angle Stewart can see Simon's feet protruding from the end of a plush red sofa and he thinks either the fledgling is dead (again) or he's bunking with the clan leader.

Raphael juts his chin up as though to say 'I'm well aware of how this looks and I don't care.' Despite the defensive body language, his tone is caring, tender. "Go rest," he says. 

Before Stewart has the chance to leave, music streams out from the area and Raphael glances back at the prone body. "Data has his fingers stuck in one of those finger trap things, you gotta see this!"

The fledgling lives. 

The fledgling is in Raphael's living room.

The fledgling must have blackmail on their leader because there's  _no_ way he'd willingly submit to such a thing. 

Raphael crosses his arms and dares Stewart to say a damn thing about it. Stewart fakes a yawn and makes his way down the dim hallway without turning around. He'll never understand Raphael Santiago's firefly-to-light bulb deal when it comes to the boy but he can understand the need for companionship. 

 

Simon leaves some three hours later, happy as a lark. 

* * *

 

**3)**

Simon Lewis has been allowed to return to DuMort after two months of exile and an empty kill order due to freeing his sadistic sire and Stewart is not surprised in the least. The young vampire could spit in Raphael's face and the latter would grimace and take it. Granted he'd pay Simon back in petty ways over a long span of time but. 

It's just after 2 o'clock in the afternoon when he approaches Stewart. Gone is the carefree chatterbox of an excited newborn vampire. It's been replaced with tortured brown eyes and an eerie silence that makes Stewart uncomfortable. This isn't the stubborn clueless Simon he grew to actually like - this Simon is  _broken._ At his own hand no less. 

"Please," he says, voice verging on a whisper.

Stewart clears his throat and moves aside. 

"Thanks," Simon replies. The elder vampire is taken by surprise when arms wind around his shoulders. They're gone before he has a chance to react and Simon is already shutting the door behind him.

-

 

They hiss and growl so loud and pained that Stewart considers abandoning his post. After five solid minutes of muffled cursing and faint sobbing followed by vehement hissing and the sound of a back hitting the wall, it's quiet. A tear streaked Simon storms out of Raphael's bedroom, storms out of their home and into the moonlight. The clan leader does not leave his room for three days afterward. 

Simon loiters outside of the door for two and Stewart takes pity upon him, bringing him a glass of chilled O negative when hours have passed between Raphael and Simon without surrender.  He almost misses the giddy untarnished fledgling who'd delighted in making Raphael crack a smile even if he did have too much of nothing to say most of the time. 

On the third day, Simon pounds the door once and loudly shouts, "You can stop hiding now. I get it, nothing is ever gonna be good enough for you and I'm tired. I'm gone."

Raphael swings the door open with too much force and watches Simon's back as it gradually disappears. When there's nothing left of him to stare after he murmurs softly to himself, "I can't do this." 

Stewart hates his job, hates the tears in Raphael's eyes when he closes himself inside of his own hell. 

* * *

 

**+1)**

Six weeks pass with more of the same: Simon groveling, Raphael scowling and Stewart killing both of them in his head. 

* * *

 

Two weeks after that he's shuffling a deck of cards for lack of entertainment (having just began his shift) when Raphael's heavy door creaks open. His shirt is partially unbuttoned and his normally flawless hair looks like fingers have been carding through it or perhaps it'd gotten tangled as he slept. It doesn't stop there, however. The side of his neck is messily smeared with blood and Stewart is beginning to put it all together when a certain (now downright  _bubbly)_ voice comes closer. 

Bare arms snake around Raphael's waist from behind and a cold nose nuzzles into his neck. 

 

"Oh hey Stewart," Simon chirps, regarding him from the slope of a collarbone. The clan leader makes no move to untangle the boy who's draped over him like a lanky knapsack. He covers Simon's hands with his own and Stewart takes in the fledglings debauched appearance. Somehow he has lost his shirt and socks, possibly more than that. Thankfully Raphael's body is covering the rest.

The elder vampire returns the greeting politely. Raphael smiles and gives the fledgling's hand a squeeze. "Lewis," Stewart says. 

Simon beams proudly, "Raphael says I don't have to ask to come in anymore so y'know...just throwin' that out there." 

Stewart deadpans. "I know that." It's pretty obvious. 

 

Simon and Stewart exchange strained eye contact for a few seconds too long and Raphael suddenly remembers why he and Simon are unintentionally torturing the poor man. He dislodges his fledgling, his _Simon_  and twines their fingers together. Every point of contact tingles and he needs Stewart gone  _now._ Or maybe soundproof rooms, possibly both. 

 

"Take the week off," he orders softly. 

 Stewart might as well be invisible when Raphael opens his mouth to speak because every ounce of Simon's focus is trained on Raphael's profile. Everything thereafter is background noise. The entire interaction is awkward as hell for Stewart who honestly - _honestly_ thought this job would be easy.

As it turns out if any endeavor involves Raphael it will be anything but simple, easy. He begins to back away before the clan leader changes his mind. "Thank you." He says, genuinely meaning it. 

-

 

If he were to look back he'd see an eager Raphael pushed up against the outside of the door and Simon licking his lips before sinking fangs into his neck.

Stewart is most definitely avoiding that area during his blessed well timed vacation. 


	11. the bedroom hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The younger vampire breathes shakily (habit) and God if that isn't the sexiest sound. 
> 
> With his leather jacket collar turned up, hair neatly coiffed into a modified pompadour and skin smelling of pomade mixed with Raphael's cologne, he could be a 1950's pin-up.

 

* * *

 

Raphael swipes a hand over the back of Simon's head roughly. " _Dios,_ will you stop squirming already?"

The younger vampire huffs in frustration as another glob of sticky paste is rubbed onto his hair. At this point it could grease a car if he wanted to. "I can actually feel myself aging."

"Need I remind you of the spiked monstrosity you created on your own? You cannot be trusted to style your own hair, now be still."

Before DuMort and Raphael Santiago, Simon hadn't given his appearance a second thought. He was the type of guy who'd run his fingers through his hair, throw on a mostly clean shirt from the floor and shove his feet into a broken in pair of chucks. He's swiftly becoming a new and improved Simon who is expected to smell good and present well. After all he is Raphael's right hand man.

(And more but now is not the time)

He is not built for the high road so he takes the low one and hopes it knocks Raphael off course enough that he removes his fingers from Simon's hair. He even throws in a smug tone just for the hell of it. 

"Clary said it looked good."

Raphael mumbles curses in spanish and eventually lands on (in plain english), "She would."

He takes a rat-tail comb and manipulates Simon's hair until it (almost) meets his high standards. Simon is sexy even in mundane clothing but they're a pair now and it's pertinent that his fledgling blends in with the others. Knowing how changing Simon's appearance affects Clarissa, how uppity she gets about it, is an added perk. And if he happens to have a thing for that classic greaser look then so be it. Nobody has to know. 

With his better half being the exception of course. 

Simon huffs. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

If he doesn't know, Raphael isn't telling him. You'd think hanging on Isabelle Lightwood's every whim would teach Clarissa how to match her own clothing but alas, she's a lost cause. 

As it turns out, he's quite accustomed to the low road as well. Having finished with the fledgling's hair, he brings his mouth to Simon's ear and lingers for half a second before speaking. "It means I wear leather better than she does, baby." 

Simon shivers.

 

"The trick is to pair your leather pants with a form fitting button up but you know that much," he murmurs. Each word is accented with a sharp nip to an earlobe, an open mouth kiss to Simon's neck, a hand sliding into his shirt and palming the absent beat of a heart. 

The younger vampire breathes shakily (habit) and God if that isn't the sexiest sound. With his leather jacket collar turned up, hair neatly coiffed into a modified pompadour and skin smelling of pomade mixed with Raphael's cologne, he could be a 1950's pin-up. Raphael has painted himself into a corner when it comes to Simon Lewis and managed to made it all the more worse by upgrading him to deliciously sweet  _sin._  

Simon stammers and fluidly tilts his head to the side for better access. "And...and then what?"

" _Then_ you check for snugness. They should fit tight and sit low on the waist."

The fledgling swallows hard. "I-uh-you're going to need to demonstrate that for me." 

Raphael steps in between the v of Simon's legs and softly kisses the outer edge of his lips, causing a groan to break free. Fuck, he's burning on the inside and he cannot _not_ touch. 

Simon's left hand flies up to grip his hips  _hard_ and the other works on undoing a zipper. Raphael watches hungrily until Simon's fumbling is too much.

 _"Después_ ," he states, pushing Simon's hands away. If he let's the more awkward side of them do it, he'll nervously mess up again and again until the mood fizzles. They blindly kiss and stumble past the door and into the living room.

Raphael's pants hit the floor. Simon's fangs extend. 

 

+

 

 

A blurred figure roughly leads him down a lamp lit hallway and Simon's nails dig into the delicate skin on Raphael's wrist. From the clan leader's perspective behind him he can see and smell his own past only now it's taking on a more romantical tint. Simon has left rainbows where grayscale once dominated and maybe that should scare Raphael but it doesn't. Simon is not a flight risk, he's a first love, second kiss, Raphael's nightly prayer. 

Raphael is high on red hot kisses and hands holding onto him in a way he has never known until this beautiful boy. 

His knees hit an unmade bed and he's falling - 

"Simon," he moans as the younger vampire sheds his clothes.

Just seeing his hair styled in a retro way Raphael has yet to let go of nearly sends him over the edge. Take away fangs and a handful of modern amenities and Simon could easily represent the best parts of 1955 for him. 

Once every stitch of clothing has been removed, Simon crawls over him and whispers,

"If you ruin my hair I'll have to kill you." 

That should not be sexy but Raphael it is and he _needs._

He arches against Simon in response and every veiled threat or mention of hair in general fly out the window.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we all noticed Simon's sexier clothes and throwback hair even before he moved into DuMort, right? and the jacket collar turned up (same jacket he wore at the hotel) when Raphael sees him for the first time since the betrayal? yeah?
> 
> and the clothes sharing? simon's 50's wedding hair? that's all raphael's work, baby. 
> 
> it's not that he wanted to change simon, it was about boosting his fledgling's self confidence and showing him vampires *aren't* hideous. it was raphael possibly doing for simon what makeup guru/fashion stylist extraordinaire magnus did for him when a fledgling raphael saw himself as a monster. 
> 
> not only that but it was also raphael making simon's place in their clan official. when clary and the others saw him without raphael he'd still have ~that~ hair, ~that~ jacket. he'd still belong to their (clan) family and be raphael's other half. they wouldn't doubt where simon's loyalty and affection lay ;) clever right? I love my jealous clary-hating son.


	12. I keep pushing and you keep holding on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael has a slight Simon-in-suits kink and Simon hates shopping.
> 
> Raphael is in love with a drama queen who claims to be his husband.

 

* * *

 

Simon is strange even by vampiric standards.

He hums little ditties to himself, babbles on about comic books and old 80's movies, drinks chilled glasses of blood with a colorful straw. For gods sake he even insists on styling his own hair after growing tired of Raphael making him sit perfectly still. His hair suffers when Raphael surrenders, honestly. 

By now he's been a resident of DuMort for three months and too many petty arguments with Raphael. It doesn't help that they're not exactly platonic pals who have no qualms about PDA and airing out their dirty laundry for every clan member to see. Sometimes Simon will stomp around the hotel afterward- calling Raphael's name until he's bothered enough to answer. 

(The others loathe him for this at times because sensitive hearing)

He tops his own strangeness, however, without even meaning to.

* * *

 

Simon hasn't left DuMort in over a week and it's really starting to get to him. It isn't that he can't leave, it's that he can't leave. When he does, it feels like an invisible string is gradually leading him back home to his clan, to safety and Raphael's arms. Home means fresh blood, a cozy bed, Raphael in his insultingly sexy clothes. 

The spat begins there and trails over into a late night shopping trip that was supposed to be enjoyable. Raphael playing dress up with Simon isn't his idea of fun even if it does earn him a flustered mate. 

"I'm not wearing that," Simon protests. 

Raphael gives him a hard glare and pushes the hanger up against his chest anyway. It's not an unflattering jacket, it's not about the jacket. 

"The least you can do is try it on."

"Buy it for yourself since you're hung up on it," Simon mutters. 

They've been at a singular shopping expedition for over two hours and he's hoping someone comes searching for them soon. If he's lucky they'll assume he's dead (er) and pop in to investigate thereby freeing him.

(He could leave. He doesn't want to)

"Simon," Raphael growls warningly. "I will buy this suit and two more in the exact coloring if you don't stop." 

"GOOD," Simon retorts, voice higher than usual.

Dark eyes flash under the florescent lighting. Raphael sucks in a deep breath simply for the calming effect. "I want to see you in it." So maybe he has a  _Simon in a sharp suit_ kink, he can't help it. Unfortunately for him he's in love with an idiot who hasn't caught on yet. The fact that they share the extravagant clothing should've tipped him off but no.

 

Simon puffs up his chest and throws the clothing to the floor. He moves into Raphael's personal space and draws the nosy gaze of everyone around them when he begins to rant. 

"We're married and our marriage is getting stale Raphael," he screeches. 

That's news to the clan leader. 

And apparently a handful of rubberneckers.

 

"What?"

Simon pushes on. "You're my wife, Raphael! The world says we should be married to girls but we're married to each other and I love you but you're driving me  _insane._ The suits, my hair, the blanket you claim I hog - I can't take it." On that note, he storms away.

Two women with carts partially full gape. Raphael wants to snap his teeth at them until they run. Instead he looks them dead in the eye and collects what's left of his pride. For once he'd like to show Simon off without it turning into a petty argument.

"I'm the  _husband_. Not the wife. The  _husband,_ " he repeats just in case he wasn't clear the first time.

(He is neither but the ogling strangers don't know that) 

An older lady who looks to be in her late 80's shakes her head at 'kids these days' and heads into an adjacent Bed Bath & Beyond. He abandons the tiny mountain of clothing and heads home to show Simon exactly what their roles are in this strange relationship. 

(After he makes sure Simon has fed of course) 

* * *

  
The clan knows better. They're husbands, wives, partners, frenemies for every second of eternity.

They're  _in love_. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prob completely OOC but I couldn't pass up this golden IT Crowd moment


	13. you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary sends a care package that includes a pillow that smells of M&M cookies.

 

* * *

 

Simon is digging through a box of goodies Clary dropped off earlier when he hears Raphael shift at his side. It's four in the afternoon and Simon can't sleep so he figured he'd pick through what she'd sent. The majority of it is odds and ends like a deck of playing cards, extra guitar picks, dental floss (habit), a soft t-shirt with Mario on the front, a [candle](https://candlemart.com/products/reeses-peanut-butter-cup-cookies-scented-candle?utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=googlepla&variant=11968945345&gclid=CjwKEAjw5M3GBRCTvpK4osqj4X4SJAABRJNC_W9MTvzS-YbxFG2BDCj2dnGNJKbDrlfUhVWDjdJLPRoCzWzw_wcB) that smells like Reese's peanut butter cups. 

She'd even thrown in a spiral notebook and pens for jotting down lyrics or whatever happened to be rattling around in his head. It's gathered next to him in a small pile on their bed. Comfort begets comfort. 

A bleary eyed Raphael narrows his eyes at an item next to Simon's thigh. " _What_ is that?" He asks, irritated and sleep ruffled. Simon has woken him from his precious beauty rest but he can't be bothered to care right now. The younger vampire is deliriously sleep deprived and happy. 

Simon follows his gaze to what appears to be an M&M [cookie](https://www.amazon.com/iscream-Chocoholic-Chocolate-Scented-Microbead/dp/B00MHGBRHA/ref=pd_bxgy_201_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B00MHGBRHA&pd_rd_r=Y72HR8SBKF20WNC25NA8&pd_rd_w=jKhnp&pd_rd_wg=FNGnH&psc=1&refRID=Y72HR8SBKF20WNC25NA8) That you can sleep on. "That?" He shoves it under Raphael's nose without warning in hopes that he'll close his eyes and enjoy the scented beauty of it as he had.

Raphael snatches it out of his hand and inspects it. 

"It's a pillow," Simon exclaims. 

The elder vampire sniffs cautiously. "It smells-" he starts.

Simon leans over and inhales the sweet aroma. "-like freshly baked cookies," he interjects with a pleased smile. 

Raphael flips it over and sniffs again, deeper this time. "It's a pillow," he says, stating the obvious.

"Clary sent it since y'know the whole  _we have to exist without food forever_ thing gets to me sometimes. And!" Simon searches through the mound until his fingers close over a cool glass jar. "This smells like Reese's peanut butter cups!" This time, he pops the lid off and holds it out politely.

Raphael glances from Simon to the candle and back again before curiosity gets the better of him. 

Simon holds it a few inches from his mate's nose and waits. "I know, I know. It's one of those things you gotta see to believe. Just take my word on it, smells like the real thing. Go on." 

Raphael, still clutching the pillow to his bare chest, surrenders. When he inhales, he immediately looks shocked. Simon makes a mental note to thank Clary profusely for that miracle and to ask her for more of them. 

And then the spell is broken. Raphael sits back against the headboard with the pillow and grumpily regards his other half. "Why would you want to own something you can no longer taste?" 

Simon shovels the remaining goodies back into the box and burrows under the covers, dragging Raphael down and draping his mate's arm over his shoulders. "My mom used to buy me and 'Bekah Reese cups after temple. This one time, I forgot mine in the car and it melted on the backseat; I forgot about it until 'Bekah sat on it," he breaks off, chuckling. "I got grounded even though it was an accident but it was worth it."

He'd been grounded for a full two days for poking fun at her but it made for a fond memory. Sometimes he brings it up when they're having a spat just to knock her off guard. In return, she gets that rough edge in her voice and reminds him of two long  _long_ boring days of no games or TV. Given the chance he'd tell childhood Simon to purposely go for it; that he'd find it hilarious when he got older. 

Raphael softens, gesturing to the pillow. "And this?"

Simon rubs his head against it like a blissed out cat. It remains in Raphael's vice like grip, pressed against his collarbone.  "I dunno. I kinda miss cookies I guess," he replied, muffled. 

"You're a masochist." 

"...says the guy who's holding it hostage." 

Raphael glares, refusing to relinquish his hold on the cookie scented pillow. "You're keeping me awake," he accuses. Yes because Simon  _forced_ him to wake up and cuddle a pillow that smells like actual food. 

"You're hogging my pillow," Simon retorts lightheartedly. 

In return he gets a sexy view of a toned back as Raphael turns his back to Simon and an ass that really should be in a museum. An ass bust or something like it. If Simon wasn't so attached to the damn thing, that is. The cookie pillow peeks out from his mate's clutches and Simon has half a mind to steal it. But he doesn't. Sure, Raphael could stomach kid sized amounts of mundane food but that's not the point. It's pure sensory and innocence.

He puts the candle on the floor and slides his hands under the pillow, around Raphael's cool waist. He can nearly feel the rapid beating of his own heart as he curls around Raphael, nose in his hair. "You smell good."

"It's the pillow," Raphael mumbles, already dozing off.

Simon brushes his lips behind an ear, part of a jaw, his cheek. He has a distinct scent that Simon could pick up on from another room, another hallway, another life. It's better than any cookie by far. 

He whispers directly in Raphael's ear and means the words that come out. "It's you." 

-only to be met with static silence and dark lashes fanning over Raphael's skin as he sleeps. Simon smiles and pulls the blanket up higher against his sentimental bleeding heart of a mate. He falls asleep within minutes. 

 

* * *

Clary happily delivers a doughnut pillow with pink frosting and brightly colored sprinkles the following week. 

* * *

 

 

 


	14. in between me and you and the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> companion poetry to chapter 7, by request 
> 
> POV Simon

 

* * *

 you took the first bullet -

a dagger to the heart 

bleeding through the hole I left

smiling like it never hurt

like it wasn't dress rehearsal for -

_'is it too late to -'_

while I cringed, knowing -

(we knew)

you'd been hurt before 

(but not like this) 

you took the first bullet -

(you got caught in the crosshairs, baby)

_you smiled -_

and I bled 

_'simon has betrayed me'_

* * *

 

it's coming down around me

gray sheets of rain and I remember 

-

_'I can't sleep_

_it's thundering, I can't sleep'_

you smile, book in your hand

_'I know. I was wondering when you'd give up the ghost'_

you, lamplit shadows, a beacon

_'why?'_

why is the rain so loud

why am I here

why did you chose me 

_'you were scared, I could hear you'_

remember:

a racing mundane heartbeat, your trembling hands under mine 

(we were scared)

(I could feel you) 

_'is it really that simple though?'_

thunder claps, eyes like a moonless night stare back, unblinking

_'it can be'_

 you're hesitant, waiting for a sign

waiting for a shooting star, a bolt of lightning - like this

_'show me'_

we touch and wildfires rage

we kiss and I no longer fear the dark

_(I chose you too, remember that)_

_-_

its coming down around me

it's thundering, I can't sleep

_are you awake tonight_

* * *

 

I cannot breathe your name

it tastes too warm between my teeth

too sweet on my tongue

_'so there was this guy -'_

(who waited decades to fall in love)

_'he talked a lot of shit_

_but he was there when the chips were down'_

(I never meant for this to happen)

_and, and_

_'and-_

(I never told you)

_I cared-'_

unbidden: you, splayed out on the bed, eyes glazed and lip between your teeth 

_'you understand?'_

(I love you) 

_'and I feel like I'm burning_

_and he's on the wrong side of the light'_

you, hissing -

_'my mouth is open_

_my fangs are too heavy,_

_I can't speak..._

_but I'll be okay I guess'_

 (I've got my pride) 

_Raphael_

I can't say it 

_Raphael_

means: aching

_Raphael_

means: don't let me be gone

_'Simon, that's love'_

means: I miss saying your name

_Raphael_

means: ' _I know'_

* * *

 

read it backwards, back to front

our story -

the lost boy who tore down the sky

the soft eyes, called him  _sunrise_

 in the margins, next chapter: 

_'I miss you, there I said it,_

_and not having you is killing me'_

the forgiveness, the borrowed jacket 

_'you need Simon, right?'_

(here is where I say I need you too)

_'welcome home, baby'_

(here is where we pretend to be brave)

_'stick around'_

the long kiss goodnight 

(I have so many plans for us)

the shared bed and petty arguments

where I yell about patience, you shout about distractions

(none of them work without you)

and -

_here_

here is where it ends -

page 1: 

_'they emerge hungry'_

dirt on my neck, your reflection in a mirror

_'let me take you home'_

here is a story about finding the sun 

_fledgling;_

dawning, rising up

_fledgling;_

sunrise

  _'I'll look after you'_

two lost boys crawling out of the grave

_fledgling;_

**yours**  

* * *

 

you come back to me on a monday

flimsy reasons on your tongue and a heart of glass

asking how I've been like my fingers aren't full of splinters

from trying to fix this without fixing me

I can't

it's easier to blame you

I lie 

too proud to admit I'm bleeding too

you leave

I don't ask you to stay

-

_I don't want you to go_

* * *

 

it's two weeks later

and we're here again

sunrise orange bleeds into pastel pink

and your eyes are the New York skyline after a storm

I put gray clouds where they shouldn't be

but I'm working on me

on this

_'I screwed up and lost you'_

I beg for forgiveness

you unclench your fists

draw back the night 

_'be loyal to me,'_

you say

soft words, a sharp edge

_'be kind, be kind,_

_ be kind to me _

_& don't come back if you're leaving'_

you're teeth and bone

all bitten lips and layers

savage and beautiful 

you have always been- 

_mine._

_'I'm sorry'_

_mine._

_'I won't go, I won't'_

_mine._

_'not without you'_

I touch you like the first kiss on New Years

as the sun to the sky before it became fire

the tug of the moon to the sea

first, your fingertips

God, I kiss each one

the bend of your neck, I mark you here

you leave the imprint of your teeth on my skin

_'this is forever, mi sol'_

eternity used to frighten me

_'yes, forever'_

the thought of a rose never wilting

the last dance never ending

_'suavemente besame, Simon'_

_kiss me slowly_

you taste like promises and vows

the covenant, the caress of your tongue

_'wait-_

_...I love you'_

your eyes like page 1

_'you...love me'_

the boy rebuilds the sky

_'if that's okay with you'_

you kiss the crease between my eyes

where the anger once carved itself out of stricken stone 

we laugh, your arms around my neck

you say- 

_'te amo, idiota, eterno'_

_I love you, idiot-_

_eternal_

 (yours)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this so much, poetry will always be my #1


	15. the candy sweetness scent of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (E rated poetry - explicit)

 

 

* * *

  **1.** this is as good a place to fall as any

we'll build our altar here

those icy fingers up and down my spine

and all of my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling

'cause the only heaven I'll be sent to

is when I'm alone with you

_oh_

you make the sound of pulling heaven down 

* * *

 

  **2** **.** drag my teeth across your chest to taste the ghost of your beating heart  

'cause I like the tension

the tension and the spark 

the candy sweetness scent of you

it bathes my skin

I'm stained by you

so make me your maria, baby

I'm already on my knees

* * *

 

  **3.** I'm possessive, it isn't nice

I get the feeling that you surround me

 and every time we kiss is like God walking into the room

_yeah_

 your girls got red in her cheeks

'cause we're something she can't see

and I love you so much

I'm gonna let you kill me

* * *

 

 **4.** I'll take it down 

down 

down

until you're begging for more

(and you'll say)

_kiss me with adventure 'til I forget my name_

(everybody knows)

they know you walk like you're a God

and 

they can't believe I made you weak

* * *

 

  **5.** I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

caving and crumbling on your hips, your lips

they're mine

there's a racing in my veins

I'm barely touching you

(I want to)

create some lovely destruction 

 'cause I like the way you bust at the seams

(and I've)

never felt pleasure and pain like this

something so right but it feels so terribly wrong

so touch me baby

can't you see I'm not afraid

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cento poetry is where you use snippets from other poems/lyrics to create a poem. I altered some because Heartbeat and Undead blahblah)
> 
> *these poems apply to gray ace raphael x simon*


	16. how you gripped my hips so mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh would you looky there, more explicit poetry

 

 

* * *

  **1.**

the stillness of his pulse

the scar on his forehead

how he bends without breaking

(how he dreams of breaking and wakes up screaming)

the slope of his shoulders and the way he laughs when he's scared

_dios, I want it all_

and I swear

we're every heartbeat in and out of time

_you're making me feel alive again_

* * *

 

  **2.**

_baby_

 he says

_baby_

 as he licks the blood from his fingers

_you taste like sin_

back arching on the bed

hands digging into freckles and skin

_baby_

and you grip my hips so mean

_baby_

_if touching you makes me unholy_

I'll-

you'll what

_I'll go straight to hell for you_

touch me again

_baby_

* * *

  

**3.**

monsters with men's faces

they call us 

we'll tear up these sheets tonight

like we've got something to prove 

feel your teeth on my neck

your fingers in my hair, we _pull -_

we push and bite until it leaves a mark

see: we move like we're fighting

and this

is how we love

_di siempre_

_eterno_

* * *

 

  **4.**

 spread your wings, dirty angel

I want to taste your hard candy heaven

I bet you're sweet as honey

and twice as thick

yeah you're no good for me

and I -

 I'm gonna crawl inside and love you sideways

* * *

 

**5.**

 scrape a dagger across my throat 

role reversal 

I meant for this to happen

and you're taking me places I've never been

_baby,_

_do it again_

wanna feel cold lips on the shell of my ear

phantom breath on my neck 

and we've been here before

_do what I say and nothing else_

 can't promise not to scream your name

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for: gray ace raphael x simon 
> 
> disclaimer because reasons: the fic title and that one line in poem #2 belongs to halsey
> 
> jic it's not clear: #5 is raphael with a dagger to *his* throat ;) and it's 100% consensual
> 
> di siempre/eterno: (according to google) means Eternal 
> 
> 1: POV raphael  
> 2\. POV simon  
> 3\. POV both  
> 4\. POV raphael  
> 5\. POV raphael


	17. talking shit about a pretty sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU wherein the betrayal or Rizzy never happened and Raphael finds the friend he's desperately needs in Meliorn. 
> 
> Featuring:  
> *background polyamorous clace  
> *downworlder friendship  
> *slight making out (saphael)  
> *brotp!sizzy  
> *meliorn x izzy  
> *double date  
> *fancy pretentious coffee  
> *petty arguments  
> *love love love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by the new promo wherein Raphael casually speaks to Meliorn (4/2017) because I make the rules now

 

* * *

 

Raphael wasn't sure when it started - this kinship with Meliorn.

 

Heaven knows it was the last thing in the world he ever expected to happen. He could say the same for the flamboyant seelie. Raphael couldn't recall the last time he had an actual genuine friend (outside of Magnus who is more like a very old father). Simon doesn't count because they've been more than that from the first. Simon emcompasses everything and everyone; he stands alone. 

For Meliorn, that person is Isabelle Lightwood. Raphael still harbors resentment toward the shadowhunter due to her barging into his home and killing his family to free a then mundane Simon but he's working on it. Admittedly, he understands because he'd kill anyone in his path if they were keeping Simon from him. 

At the very least he'd rear back and bare his fangs until they freed his fledgling. 

Nonetheless, he and Meliorn have formed an unexpected friendship of sorts. 

* * *

 

 

Meliorn lazily lounges on the sofa in Raphael and Simon's living room, examining his nails as the clan leader pours them a drink. 

AB+ for himself, bubble tea for the seelie. 

"I hear your Simon got himself in trouble recently," Meliorn states, sipping at his tea.

Raphael takes the opposite end and sighs heavily. "When _isn't_ he caught up in something?"  God help him, he loves the boy but if vampires could die from stress Raphael would legitimately be occupying his own grave by now. 

Meliorn shakes his head. "You're right." And then, because he's a sucker for a good story ~~gossip~~ , "Tell me about it."

Lily chuckles at their ~~gossipping~~ discussion at times and reminds Raphael that the others can hear them outside of his living quarters. Mostly she agrees with them. The fledgling is a hot mess.

"Isabelle didn't tell you?"

"When would she have? She's been away."

Raphael nods. "Ah, that's right. Idris."

Meliorn isn't too keen on the topic and it gives him a forlorn glazed expression so Raphael drops it. His seelie friend doesn't cope well with being apart from his shadowhunter and Raphael understands. Every bone in his body screams to run after Simon when he leaves DuMort but he has mostly tamped down the urges. Unfortunately Simon's remarkable ability to land himself in every squirmish and Clarissa's drama only exacerbates matters. 

Every once in awhile he sends a fellow vamp to camp out near The Institute and report back to him just in case. He'd rather Simon return to him intact. 

He takes a long drink of his blood and begins. 

"The wolves required his assistance and of course Simon ran after them. Less than two hours later, Maia Roberts practically carried him to the doorstep where he bled on the tile."

Meliorn cringes. What a mess that would be to clean up.

"He was gravely injured?"

Raphael feels a mixture of frustration and pain at the thought of Simon being hurt in any manner. Yes, he's technically already dead but he could still feel pain and lose a limb or two. He could die. Raphael would die. Call it melodramatic if you will but they're bound to one another for eternity and he loves his idiot. 

He hides it with a sip of blood before continuing. "I had to call Magnus." Magnus had portaled in within seconds, whisked up a potion and Simon was just well enough for a stern lecture from his clan leader slash concerned mate. 

Meliorn adjusts his shirtsleeve, buying Raphael time to continue should he choose to.

When he remains silent, working his jaw, the seelie replies, "Where is he now?" He wouldn't be surprised to find Santiago has a posse following the fledgling around. 

Raphael glances at him with pained unguarded eyes. That loss, Meliorn thinks, would genuinely kill the man.

"I sent him on an errand as a punishment. He's assisting Magnus, gathering ingredients."

Meliorn chuckles. "I assume he's not happy about that."

The clan leader shakes his head, cracking a smile. Magnus is one of his closest friends but he's too picky when it comes to acquiring materials for potions and the like. They have to be a precise amount. Not to mention the fact that most require portaling to different countries. Simon hates traveling in that manner. It makes him queasy.

"He's not."

The seelie raises his glass. "Cheers," he says, clicking his drink with Raphael's. "Here's to the impossible people we love." 

He leaves a half hour later after receiving a text from Isabelle. She was back from her trip and eager to see him. Not long after he leaves Simon returns, blessedly scratch free and Raphael kisses him for it before he can even make it through the door. 

* * *

 

 

 Simon cards his fingers through Raphael's hair as he's stretched out on the sofa. It's early yet and they've been awake for an hour at most. Simon's hair is sticking up wildly and he continues to yawn drowsily, mumbling about the bed calling his name. Soon they'll need to throw on business attire and likely bicker over who used the last of the hair gel, but not yet. 

Eventually, "What do you and Meliorn talk about?"

Raphael brings Simon's knuckles to his lips and tenderly kisses them. He could stay here all night with his head in Simon's lap and Simon's fingers in his own. Intimate manners such as this are sacred and off limits when it comes to Meliorn. It's a mutual unspoken agreement.

"You." 

The hand in his hair pauses. "What about me?"

Raphael peers up at him innocently. "Nothing bad, _mi cielo."_

Simon narrows his eyes. "Nuh-uh, you're lying. Those are your lying eyes. You crap talk me, don't you?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm clumsy, I can't get my stupid hair to do that thing yours does," Simon starts, grumpily. "I nearly die like twice a week every week, um, I spend too much time away. Take your pick."

Raphael sits up and rolls his eyes. It's too early for shenanigans and attitude. 

"If you'd stop trying to off yourself weekly, I'd drop the subject." 

Simon groans loudly, dramatically. "For the last time it was an  _accident."_

"You  _accidently_ wandered into a vamp from a clan that wants us dead's grasp? What, did you trip and fall?" 

He's referring, of course, to an incident from three weeks ago because yes he  _is_ a dog with a bone so to speak but Simon could've been killed. He has not and will not drop it, not ever, thank you very much. That clan in particular has had it out for them for decades. They know Simon is Raphael's weakness. It's Clarissa's fault for dragging him to Hardtail on a whim but that's another matter entirely. 

Simon throws his hands up and marches off to the kitchen. "This again," he huffs.

Raphael follows. His entire life consists of following his moody stubborn mate. He has accepted this exhausting fate. They're a nightmare sometimes but he wouldn't take a single second of this back. 

He cocks his head to the side condescendingly. "I'm sorry? Did my caring about you get in the way of your death-wish?" 

Simon grabs a clean glass and meanders around the kitchen aimlessly, looking for the pitcher of blood that's on the counter right in front of him. He's working himself into a frenzy. Finally he growls and shoves Raphael against the flat side of a cabinet. 

"You're an ass," he mutters, hands already shoving his mate's shirt up. 

Raphael waits until the shirt pools on the floor and catches Simon off guard. The younger vampire is hungrily raking his eyes over Raphael's ab's when the latter deftly sinks his fangs into Simon's neck and _slowly_   teasingly sucks. 

"Nnnghhh," Simon moans, fingers digging into bare skin. 

Raphael pulls away to laugh against his throat before licking and biting, sliding both hands under Simon's t-shirt.

It's an argument well spent. 

* * *

 

 

Raphael and Meliorn eye one another wearily as their respective other halves gossip about the shadow world.

 

Apparently Raj hit on Jace last week and that ended in a temporary suspension. Prior to that, Clary threw herself into the mix by giving Raj a piece of her mind about stereotypes. 

Something about people assuming Jace is down for a threesome due to his bisexuality and _Puh-lease. Like you're his type. He'd go for Simon before ever touching you_. 

First off, no one is making a grab for Simon.

Second off, Raphael regrets agreeing to a double date. 

Also, Jace Wayland is bisexual? Wow, color him surprised. 

"I need a refill," Meliorn says over the chatter. 

Raphael jerks his head in the direction of the bar. He jostles Simon out in order to slide from his end of the booth (torture device) and is met with surprise. 

"Where'you going? We just got here. I'm not ready to leave yet," Simon complains. 

Raphael stares longingly at the freedom of the bar chairs. "We're not. I'll be over there," he says. 

Isabelle catches her boyfriend's eye and attempts to lure him back with eye sex that makes the other couple uncomfortable. Not that they're not guilty of the same (a lot) but that's different.  Meliorn shakes his head no and accepts a shot glass of dark liquid. 

Raphael feels Simon's eyes on him as he leaves. It's good to feel wanted, it's not good to feel suffocated by a one sided double date.

 

-

 

 

"You escaped," Meliorn says with a tiny smile as he takes a bar stool. He nudges over a matching shot glass. 

Raphael slips onto the seat next to him, grateful to be free. "Barely." 

"Wayland isn't straight," Meliorn states. 

"This is news to you?" 

Discreetly, Raphael pours a few drops of blood into his drink from a flask in his jacket pocket. He came prepared for this date. 

The seelie shrugs. "Not really. I assumed he was with Izzy's brother -  _other_ brother for awhile."

"That ship sailed years ago," Raphael remarks. Or not at all actually. 

"Mm," Meliorn replies, tossing back his drink. "Bane took over from there." 

Raphael chuckles. "Wayland never stood a chance. I caught him eyeing Simon once or twice." 

"And?"

"And what? Simon is  _my_ mate," Raphael counters, suddenly defensive.  "Wayland belongs with Clarissa." 

Meliorn laughs. 

"What's so funny?"

"According to Izzy, he belongs to someone else as well."

"Who?"

Meliorn orders another drink and Raphael risks a glance at Isabelle and Simon. They're merrily chuckling and gossiping over food Simon will regret later. He claims it's worth it to quote, "Taste one of God's most mouth wateringly perfect ideas - loaded nacho's."

He was practically glowing with happiness when the food arrived and so Raphael bit back a sarcastic remark about owing credit to mundanes for the disgusting glob of tortilla chips and sour cream on his plate. His mate is undead and okay with it - he'd hate to snuff out that little spark of life in Simon. 

"I'm not on a first name basis with shadowhunters outside of Isabelle," Meliorn replies. 

"She didn't tell you?"

"I would rather not indulge in the shadow world's gossip."

Raphael takes his shot and cringes at the burn on the way down. He rarely drinks these days unless it's when Simon moans about 'Poor pitiful me, having to drink all alone like George Bailey.'   He has a hard time telling those puppy dog eyes No.  

"Understood. I assume they're a..." Raphael struggles to remember the term. 

"-trio?" Meliorn suggests.

The clan leader waves a hand in the air dismissively. "Something of that nature."

"I suppose so." 

"Well," Raphael replies, "I'm sure they're happy." 

Meliorn chuckles. "Raj."

They share a laugh and jabs about the wronged shadowhunter and the visual of Clarissa taking him on. He probably ran away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. He's lucky he didn't get thrown out. 

-

 

 

"Did you have fun gossiping?" Simon teases as they pass through the main entrance of DuMort. 

Stan greets them with a nod and passes by. 

"I do not gossip," Raphael stated. 

Discussing and gossiping are entirely separate concepts. What he and Meliorn do is have casual conversation that happens to involve the lives of those around them. There's nothing wrong with that. 

Simon stopped him mid walk, beaming. "Yeah you do." 

"I'm a respected leader of the New York vampire clan, I-"

The younger vampire cuts him off with a sweet firm kiss. "Blah blah blah, you're above gossiping because suits with shoulder-pads and resting bitch face." 

"English, _mi corazón_." 

"I said," Simon giggles, amused, "I'm right and you're wrong." 

Raphael muscles him up against the wall, nearly knocking over a portrait of Christ in a gilded frame. 

"What makes you so sure of that?"

He knows he's winning when Simon's gaze drifts from his eyes to his lips, his throat. He might've worn a suit that happens to hug his body in all the right places just to pay Simon back to dragging him out on a double date. 

"Um," his (ever so eloquent) mate stammers.

Simon licks his lips, mumbles what sounds like, "Screw it," and dives in for a heated kiss. Raphael hums happily against his mouth and shuts right up when cool hands untuck his shirt and flatten against his back. 

He's still right. Raphael Santiago does not gossip.

 

Elliot glances at them in passing and rolls his eyes. The things he has to put up with around here. 

* * *

 

 

When Raphael needs away from DuMort and Isabelle isn't holding Meliorn hostage with her seductive charms, they meet up at a local 24hr coffee shop. 

 

The seelie crunches biscotti and Raphael enjoys a rich hot cortado. It's not unusual for him to receive a two or three a.m. text with:

 

 **Meliorn** (02:45 a.m.) >  **Raphael** :   _Sweetleaf_

 

 **Raphael**  (02:51 a.m.) >  **Meliorn** :  _I'll get us a table._

 

Sweetleaf is their unofficial meetup place for delicious coffee and pastries. Simon asked to tag along once and Raphael shut that down fast. He adores his _pocholito_ but even the most patient mate needs a rest from his constant chattering. 

 

It's 1:32 on a Thursday morning and Meliorn is nursing a Vietnamese style cold brewed coffee. Raphael is savoring his velvety espresso drink. They sit in comfortable silence for awhile, both relishing the break from duties and the busy downworld. It's nice to sit among mundanes on occasion. 

Raphael enjoys people watching and Meliorn enjoys ignoring them. It works out perfectly. 

"Isabelle wants me to meet her parents," Meliorn says, breaking the quiet. 

"They're not fond of downworlders," Raphael replies, pitch low enough that the mundanes cannot hear it. 

Meliorn stirs his coffee uneasily. "The seelie world can do no right by them."

Simon frequently calls his mate  _'the biggest squishiest softy in the whole downworld'_ and deny it though Raphael may, he's not wrong. He comes by his caring nature honestly. Guadalupe Santiago raised her children to be strong and defend themselves but not hard. She would always tell him not to give the world that sort of control over him - the power to harden him against love and compassion. 

He talks a good talk and puts on a nice show of bravado as a clan leader but it's only half of who he is. Everyone at DuMort knows that and respects him for it. They're cared for and well fed because of his leadership skills and a heart his mother would be proud of. 

Meliorn is his friend. He's bossy and opinionated but he's good.

They're both  _good._

"They accepted Alexander and Magnus. They will accept you. Give them time."

He loathes defending Maryse and Robert Lightwood but they tolerate their son's relationship with a male warlock. They're learning to loosen the reigns and very slowly accept who their children are as individuals. 

Meliorn smiles meekly. "Thank you, my friend." 

They enjoy the rest of their coffee in relative quiet as mundanes bustle to and fro or linger at tables nearby. They can almost feel  _normal_ here, save for the pointed ears hiding behind Meliorn's long brunette hair and Raphael's fangs. 

 

-

 

 

 

Two weeks later, they're back and Meliorn is smiling like sunshine. The meeting was rocky but he put to use the overly polite and formal etiquette Raphael gave him tips on and his own charming charisma.

Of course they'd used his inability to lie against him but he'd passed there as well. His intentions with Isabelle were pure and he genuinely loved her. If it didn't show on his face (and he was sure it did) it was there in his answers. He even shook Robert's hand and kissed Maryse's before leaving Isabelle with a peck on the cheek. She'd dropped by later to show her just how much she appreciated his efforts. 

Naturally that led into a particularly juicy tidbit about Jace's new boyfriend and Clarissa of course. A trio indeed. Simon says the word is  _polyamory_ or a  _triad._ Apparently things got heated over a boardgame of all things. Clarissa doesn't take losing very well and insisted she was right and the new guy was wrong. That's as far as Isabelle got before Meliorn zoned out entirely. 

Damn.

He'll ask Simon later. 

Later, "Simon made a crude joke."

Meliorn scoffs. Raphael glares.

"Apologies. You were saying?" 

 

Okay so maybe they gossip. 

 

-

 

 

 

Simon pushes away a tempting glazed doughnut which Isabelle gleefully snatches up.

She proceeds to lick the icing off first and  _then_ eat the doughnut itself because she's an awful  _awful_ friend. 

"Go on," she encourages. 

Despite being restricted to a bland glass of ice water (because mundane cafe), Simon brightens. 

"He didn't speak to me for three hours."

Isabelle stirred her drink and teasingly asked, "A whole three hours?" 

It went right over Simon's head. "Yeah! And y'know why?" He doesn't wait for her to even ask before barreling on. 

"Because I made a joke about burning his junk off."

Isabelle spits out her drink, laughing. "Oh my God."

"It's funny, right?"

She continues cackling, imagining how well that went over. Raphael Santiago is  _the_ queen bee of drama queens. He almost puts Magnus to shame. 

"He was going on about the clave and the history of them burning our kind. He said they burn one part off at a time and well...I'm kind of attached to that one," Simon blurts out. 

Isabelle takes a sip of her drink and regards him over the straw, eyes glittering. "Oh?"

Simon shrugs. "I mean... _look_ at him. He's super gorgeous and he even better when he's-" He cuts himself off, realizing where he was going with that statement. Not to mention the fact that his fangs were beginning to make themselves known.

Damn Raphael Santiago and his tight pants.

"Um he got mad though and did that death glare thing where he gets all up in your space, well  _my_ space. Then he mumbled about Meliorn and coffee and ran off." 

Isabelle smiles. "That'll give them something to gossip about, I'm sure." 

Simon nods. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title: simon is that pretty sunset ;)
> 
> I actually researched the coffee shop and it's in Long Island and offers $3.50 cortado's (I've never actually had one because I live in the sticks and yea)
> 
> anyways my sons deserve love, happiness and friendship
> 
> SH writers: just let me take over, I got this. my downworlder babies deserve sweetness and I don't like the idea of downworlders hating other downworlders. they're good people and deserve nice things :') 
> 
> POCHOLITO: small cute thing  
> CARINO: sweetheart  
> CIELO: my heart and sky


	18. sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary and Jace barge into DuMort and see more than they'd intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP: 
> 
> **THIS CHAPTER IS RATED (M) MATURE**

 

 

It's three p.m. in the middle of the day and most of DuMort is sleeping.

It's an hour where meetings and visits are off limits and personal time is allotted. Raphael had been passing through the main entry room with it's exquisite art, calling Simon's name quietly, when he was abruptly shoved onto the sofa.

And suddenly, Simon is  _everywhere._

"Hi," he beams, knees on either side of Raphael's hips. 

Raphael is exhausted. They've been away until nearly sunrise - negotiating with seelies and wolves over assisting the shadow world  _again_ (reluctantly, Raphael agreed but only due to Simon's influence) and he'd rather be sleeping. Ideally he'd prefer to be enveloped in Simon's arms with a plethora of blankets but this works too.

He smiles right back and rolls his hips, savoring the moan Simon lets loose. "Are we doing this?"

"I like that jacket on you," Simon breathes in response, sitting up and bringing Raphael with him. He unbuttons it clumsily and tosses it to the floor, knowing he can get away with it, under the circumstances. 

Raphael arches a brow, teasing. "I like that  _shirt_ on you."  Their seamless banter is one on a long list of why he adores Simon Lewis. The younger vampire laughs as his shirt is messily pulled over his head. 

Raphael Santiago is grace personified but it goes right out the window when he teeters on the edge of losing control. He's all clawing desperation, messy kisses and passion. Sometimes they take their time and the kisses are warm and loving. Other times it's outright primal, such as now. 

Simon pushes him back down onto the sofa and roughly nips at his neck. Underneath of him, Raphael grinds into him and sinks his fangs into a bare shoulder. That's a perk Simon will  _always_ appreciate when it comes to being a downworlder or vampire in general: the sex is unbelievably hot. 

It's  _You've ruined me for anyone else_  phenomenal. Or it could be Raphael in general. It drives Simon mad on a daily basis which is hardly productive when vampire politics are at stake but it is what it is. 

"Harder," he pants, licking and biting along Raphael's throat. 

In return Raphael bares down and growls, sucking deeper.

Bloodplay is apparently a kink Simon never knew he had until  _him._ He'd hesitated at first on account of his last experience being less than stellar but Raphael had taken his time, allowing Simon to lead. Embarrassingly, the first time he felt those lips and fangs sucking at his skin, Simon came in his pants. Thankfully he's gained more control over himself since then - barely. 

As for Raphael, he's really into allowing himself be vulnerable and handing control over to Simon when they're intimate. That level of trust makes the younger vampire swear he can feel his heart still pounding away in his chest. 

He loves this ridiculous man more than he ever thought possible. 

"Off," he says, reaching between them to fumble with Raphael's belt. 

Raphael licks the blood smeared wounds and drags Simon down for a heated kiss, lips still red with the tangy sweetness of his blood. It's dizzying at times to think that this beautiful boy who holds sunshine in his very being is  _his_ for eternity. He has never loved another as he does Simon nor will he ever. He's irreplaceable. 

 _"Off,"_ Simon repeats bossily, standing to tug at Raphael's pants. 

Raphael smirks,  _slowly_ removing his clothes as Simon watches longingly. He almost wants to freeze frame those pleading eyes and pouty lips but they're burned into his memory as it is. Anymore of them and he'd never leave the bed...or DuMort's sofa...or Camille's gaudy matching armchair. The others know where they are and what they're up to, thanks to sensitive hearing. They know when to take an alternate route or avoid a particular open room though the couple usually save it for the bedroom. 

"Stop that," Simon mutters, nearly tripping and falling on his face in his rush to remove the remainder of his clothes.  

"No can do," Raphael purrs, shooting him a seductive smile. 

"Asshole," Simon counters, hands on Raphael's pants. Impatiently, he nearly rips the fabric and breaks a few delicate stitches loose. It takes under two minutes until every scrap of clothing is strewn about the room. 

From there it's a cacophony of soft moans and muffled spanish.

 

 

+

 

 

Jace and Clary let themselves into DuMort's unguarded back door and follow a winding hallway. They've a pressing issue to discuss with the clan leader and neither Simon or Raphael are answering their phones. 

Jace leads the way past enormous paintings and dimly lit lamps. Behind him, Clary trudges on, determined. Barging into a hotel lodged with the undead is not her best idea but he wasn't about to let her risk it alone. 

"Vampires sleep during the day, don't they?" He asks, nearly to the main hall. 

Clary shushes him. 

He's almost positive they do and that makes this idea even worse. He'd rather not have to fend off hissing sleep deprived glorified cats, thanks. 

"I hear something," he whispers, unsheathing his stele. 

Clary recognizes one of two voices as Simon's. "It's okay. It's just Simon, c'mon." She skirts around him, leading the way. He tucks away his weapon, hoping she's right. 

The closer they get, the clearer the voices get. Jace recognizes the elder vampire's as well as Simon's. They're breathy and he's reaching out for Clary's wrist to warn her but she's too fast. 

_"Raphael...please...'_

Oh God.

_'Don't... **do** that or I'm going to...Ra-'_

Yeah they're definitely having sex. 

 

 

Clary shrieks loud enough to wake every vampire in the building and Jace begrudgingly follows, cringing. 

 

 

Shocked green eyes dart over bare skin and Raphael who is mostly hidden by Simon. "Ohmygod...you're...he's... _JACE!"_

Simon immediately drops down to shield what's left of his dignity and Raphael, the bastard, smirks under him. 

"You really shouldn't barge in," he says, calm for a man who's in a compromising position. 

Jace tosses discarded pants at them and turns his back, taking Clary with him as the other couple compose themselves. Normally she'd have a snarky comeback to his nonsense but  _normally_ she's not witnessing her best friend banging his clan leader. She's paler than usual and speechless. 

"Never took you as a sex-in-public kind of guy," Jace remarks, eyeing Simon teasingly once they're mostly dressed. The young vampire gapes awkwardly. 

Raphael, still unabashedly shirtless, crosses his arms. The guy's a dick but he has nice biceps, not that Jace would ever voice that revealing thought.

"Does this look like public property to you?" 

Clary gathers herself enough to drag her best friend away for an impromptu speech that likely involves boundaries and consent. From the looks of it, Simon wasn't resisting or being forced. In fact, he was  _enjoying_ himself. 

Jace shudders.

He's not into downworlder sexcapades regardless of who it is or how they're doing it. But, for the record Raphael Santiago, domineering vampire extraordinaire, is a power bottom. It's surprising and more information than Jace would like to have, honestly. 

"Ever heard of a bedroom?" He retorts.

Raphael glances over at Simon, concerned. The latter mouths  _I'm fine,_ freeing Raphael to return to his usual snarkiness. 

"I have actually. You see, downworlders, we're not ashamed of our sexuality." 

This has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with exposing some poor vamp (and Jace loathes defending them) to an X-rated show. Doors and rooms exist for a reason. 

He mirrors the clan leader, crossing his arms as well. Shadowhunters are not boring and vanilla if that's what he's implying. They've enough class to utilize a bedroom or - bathroom and lock the door. If the institute were to witness them like  _this,_ they'd lose every ounce of respect.

"You do this often?" 

 

Nearby, Clary waves a hand in the air. Raphael ignores Jace's nosy question and invites himself to their discussion. He boldly meets puzzled green eyes and  _smiles,_ having overheard every word the redheaded shadowhunter said. 

She glares. 

 

He turns to Simon and takes his hand without resistance on the other end. They have a silent exchange while Jace and an incredulous Clary watch. 

Eventually, "I'm sure you're unaware of this as it doesn't pertain to  _you_ but we sleep during the day and you're interrupting," Raphael states condescendingly. "Any business you have with us can wait." 

Clary turns to Simon, expecting him to take her side. Even Jace knows that isn't going to happen. 

The younger vampire yawns, hair tousled, shirt wrinkled and buttoned up wrong. "I'm really tired. I promise I'll text when I'm up."

Jace takes her hand and whispers, promising they'll stop at Hardtail for a drink if she agrees to leave. He could use hard liquor right now. It takes a few minutes of pulling her aside to talk before she relents. 

"We're leaving," she announces, glaring at Raphael. 

Simon holds his free hand up helplessly. The two of them seem wide awake to Jace but that's none of his business. He's just as uncomfortable as they are and he's not even half naked. The sooner they can get out of here, the better. 

"Call me," Clary adds, hugging Simon tightly just to spite Raphael. 

It doesn't appear to work. He's calm and collected, happy to hold Simon's hand.

Jace gets it, he does.

He used to view Simon as a threat to he and Clary's relationship but then Simon moved into DuMort and gradually began to change. His priorities seemed to shift and the two friends saw less and less of one another. On the rare occasion they were in the same room, Simon frequently mentioned Raphael.

If Jace had any lingering doubts about it, they're long gone now. He drapes an arm over her shoulders and leads them back the way they came. 

Bring on the Jack Daniels. 

 

+

 

 

As soon as he hears footsteps in the opposite direction Simon grins, dirty and teasing with fangs exposed. He runs a tongue along a sharp edge and grabs Raphael by his belt loops. 

"Where were we?" 

* * *

 

Clary no longer barges in.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol soooo that was fun huh? I never write smut tbh but I had this idea in the back of my head and here we are. sleep deprived writer meets accidental poorly written voyeurism, yikes 
> 
> also this is proooobably Not the best way to come out to your best friend but clary is stubborn enough that she'd deny it unless she saw for herself
> 
> (and so she did) she's not a fan of simon's (new to her) bf as you can tell 
> 
> in this fic raphael is gray ace. please accept my apologies if I step on any toes or get it wrong -
> 
> you're valid and raphael is valid


	19. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a drunken sequel to chapter 18, featuring vague Clace and a realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sloppy midday drunken shenanigans for Ines)

 

 

Jace's head is swimming and there's currently three of Clary slumping on a bar stool next to him. Or a lampshade, it's a coin toss as to which one is accurate. 

She massages her temples, trying to make sense of the vampiric porno that assaulted their senses only hours prior. Simon isn't straight; she's known this since grade 6 when he stumbled his way through coming out. He's the pansexual to her bisexual. It used to be a running joke between them: who was going to land a guy first. 

Only, Simon never dated anyone. She never expected such a curveball, he hadn't even shown interest in Raphael. 

 

**Wait.**

 

Simon's palm gripping his clan leader's biceps, Raphael having to completely turn around just to make them stop staring. But it was because of the blood bags, right? Oh and the night they formed an alliance. He suddenly found his voice and stood way too close to Raphael after _choosing_ him...

 

**Wow.**

 

Simon Lewis, _her_ Simon has been crushing on his clan leader for months. How could she have missed something of this magnitude? Tiny moments begin to mesh, one into another in a dizzying array until she feels like vomiting. That could be the booze but whatever, she's not a lightweight. She's Clary freaking Fray. Lightweight, Lightwood. Ha. Izzy could probably drink her under the table. 

"Whatso funny,"  Jace slurs. _He_ knows how to hold his liquor but it's possible he hit it too hard today. 

Clary giggled, remembering. "Simon... _my_ Simon...is'a panda."  She snorts, completely undignified. 

Jace squints at Clary number two. "What? I don't... _what_?" 

"Rock Solid _Paaanda_ ," she says, dragging out the last word like the world will make sense again if he can figure it out. Fat chance of that. 

He tosses back another shot and shudders as the heat of it burns his throat. "I don't get it, I don't understand."

Clary takes a gulp of her long island iced tea and giggles as it trickles onto her chin. "Jaceee, my pretty Jace," she swipes at her mouth with a crumpled napkin, missing the wet spot. "Simon. Simon is pansexual and he likes _boys_. Raphael is a boy. He has a-"

Jace clamps a hand over her mouth. "Yeah I know. It's stuck in my head. It's some kind of..." He gestures vulgarly with his hands, forming a sloppy form of a dick in the air. "...dick ghost. Is that...are they real? I don't want a dick ghost, Clary."

The last sentence follows with his face scrunching up in a combination of fear and confusion. She busts out laughing and the bartender gives them a dirty look. Hey buddy, she thought, I just caught my best friend, the guy I shared a tent with every Summer, giving it to his clan leader good. Vampire sex at that. 

Pounding. 

Thrusting. 

Moaning. 

She gags and clutches her stomach. Jace makes a move to pat her back and ends up mindlessly stroking thin air. Flashes of Simon, Raphael, that ugly gold sofa that even Prince wouldn't own if he were alive, appear. A snapshot of Simon folding his body over Rachael's to cover both of them. 

 

**Hold up.**

 

She turns towards a blurry Jace shaped space and pats his shoulder. "New freckle, he has a new one. On his...his _ass_." Is it weird that she knows where most of them are? Possibly, who cares? Honestly it's rude of him not to tell her. About the freckle, yeah. 

"I don't have an ass freckle,"  Jace hiccups. 

"Not you. Simon."

Jace runs a hand over his face; willing the room to stop spinning. This ride isn't fun, whose idea was it to get hammered anyway? Ass freckle, that's right. Simon and Raphael getting it on, Clary screaming. He needs more liquor. 

"Clar...Clary...I wasn't looking that close. Besides, he has a flat ass."

She huffs; offended on Simon's behalf. "He's my best friend, Jace, and I love all of him even if his ass is...is-"   It's then that she loses it. Her shoulders shake with laughter as she grips Jace's leg in order to stay upright. What remains of his drink hits the floor with a loud crash and Jace blinks at it. 

_Diamonds, are those diamonds?_

The bartender makes her way over, lips pursed. "I'm calling the two of you a cab. You've had about enough." She motions for a short guy with an unfortunate patchy mustache to clean up the mess and disappears. 

Jace leaned over as she left, breathing into Clary's ear for a minute. She grinned; enjoying the warmth of it and how it tickled against her skin. Who cares if they're in public? She's open for a continuation of wherever this is leading. 

Having recalled why he was in the position in the first place, Jace whispered quietly (loudly), "I don't think she likes us. We should get Alec, he'll do that stone faced thing that he does so well and she'll leave us alone. He forgets to blink when he's doing it; it's creepy. We should tell him what we saw."

Clary sighs. 

He grins at the boy who's now sweeping up their mess.  "Alec! Hey, Alec. We were jus' talking about you since you're-" he made a limp wrist gesture in the boy's direction. " _gay_ and Simon is into pans. Or pots. You'll never believe what-"

Alec shoves him away. "Dude, I'm not your type." 

Jace shakes his head. "I _am_ though. You like me, you always have but 'is okay, Magnus knows." The boy collects his broom and dustpan littered with glass, taking a step away from them. "No, don't go. _Buddy_ ," Jace reaches for him again.  "It's okay, I get it. I _am_ pretty-" 

Alec flees and Clary laughs. "He's not gay."

Jace whips around to face her; prepared to defend his very gay brother's honor. Alec does his hair meticulously, he used to check out fellow shadowhunters as they walked past. He tried to make a move on Jace more than once. He's Elton John level gay. He's Raphael Santiago 'I never leave DuMort without flawless makeup and hair gel' level gay.    

She presses her lips to his cheek in a sloppy kiss. "Don't be mad at me. You love me."

He grips her elbows, steadying himself. "Yeah but Alec _kissed_ Magnus. On his wedding day. He likes guys." 

She rolls her eyes.  "I _know_ , I was there. What I meant was - the guy you just shoved out of the closet wasn't Alec. He had a fuzzy lip thing."  She blinks and taps her top lip, trying to find the correct term. It has an  _M_  in it. 

Jace groans. All three Clary's make a good point. Alec would rather give up his bow and arrows than ever grow a single sprig of facial hair. He might actually die if he missed a day of shaving. 

Just then, the bartender gestures at them. Two stocky men muscle a protesting Jace and giggling Clary into a cab. 

* * *

 

The real Alec is not happy when they return. He pays the cabbies expensive tab (due to the drunken idiots getting lost) and ushers them inside. After hearing a pieced together version of events, he starts a pot of strong coffee and wonders if he'll ever be able to look his boyfriends oldest friend in the eye. Sex doesn't alarm him in the least but vampires? He'll pass on that peepshow. 

* * *

 

The couple wake tangled together with throbbing headaches and a text to Clary from Raphael. It reads:

 

_'What? No visit today? Aw, that's too bad. We've been practicing.'_

 

Jace clutches his stomach and makes a run for the bathroom.

Clary sits up too fast and promptly lies back down with her phone in hand. It's too early for Raphael's dramatics and she's not in the mood. God, does he ever take a day off? She's composing a text (heavy on the typos because who needs to edit when you feel like crap) when her phone pings with a follow up from Raphael.

 

_'If you show up at DuMort without my permission from here on, I'll personally have Stan escort you off the premises.'_

 

She bitterly sends back:

 

 _'teel Simon to call me, Now'_  

 

As soon as she can stand without losing her balance, they're going to have a long talk about this. 

* * *

 

Simon peers at the phone from over Raphael's shoulder. "Practicing, hmm?" 

Raphael leans into him and switches off his phone.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> magnus please come rescue your bf and free him from his oversharing parabatai 
> 
> simon, you little shit. this is the real reason you quit answering your phone ;) here's to hoping these naughty boys make it to the bedroom this time 
> 
> also jace is not straight. at all. he's somewhere on the lgbt spectrum but he's not sure exactly where yet - he'll get there


	20. put it on paper (how much I care)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon keeps a personal journal while he's living at DuMort.

 

* * *

  **day 01**

I'm staying at DuMort. With the other dead people, where I belong now I guess.

Anyway it's only temporary and maybe I can move back home (after I figure this being undead deal and getting rid of my homicidal tendencies) soon. 

For now, Raphael officially introduced me to the clan (called me fledgling which was annoying) and everyone was nice which surprised me because _vampires_. He also gave me my own room that's right around the corner from his.

I asked him where the coffin was and he laughed then left to find an extra blanket with, "Just in case. The blankets will make you feel more safe."

Why does he care? 

He laughs at my bad jokes, why does he do that? 

 ~~He has a great neck~~. 

* * *

 

  **day 05**

I'm starving and it feels like my body is a cage or a fight that I'm losing.

He says hell is for the damned and we're not the damned, but I can't even look at myself straight.

Called myself a monster and he apologized a few hours later. When I asked _what for_ , he left.

Not sure where I went wrong there. 

* * *

 

**day 08**

So, vampire training sucks. How hard can it be to stay dead, geez.

Should be common sense crap: stay out of the sun, throw away that Starbucks card, don't eat anyone, control your hunger. Right?

 But no, I have to practice running like fricking Sonic the Hedgehog while he watches and narrows his eyes.

I'm making an ass of myself and running into walls while he's sipping blood like a hot Dracula.

Also, he keeps calling me _baby_ like it's my name. I reminded him that my name is _Simon_ , 

S I M O N

but he doesn't listen. 

* * *

 

**day 13**

Raphael came up with a weird blood infused drink that doesn't taste entirely like it and he even put a lemon wedge on the side.

Who _does_ that?

It was pretty though. I asked him for the recipe like 4x but he refuses to give it to me. 

And, like, I can hear crap really well since I died and all and I swear he said something about me not needing him anymore, after.

That's the stupidest thing he's said so far. 

* * *

 

  **day 16**

training went REALLY weird tonight.

I don't know WHAT happened but he just looked really good and um...well, my fangs kinda popped out when he pinned me to the floor.

(he's teaching me how to fight)

anyway, fangs are tied to feelings, emotions and let's just say I was feeling some sort of way.

it was his fault for wearing those ugly gray sweatpants with the little drawstring and that prob $50 tight V-NECK _(why me?)_ shirt. 

his face got all strange and gritted his teeth.

he practically shoved me out the door & told me to go take a walk. what the hell??

~~he hates me~~

* * *

 

  **day 18**

(he doesn't hate me) 

He's acts like That didn't happen but he also gives me that flirty smile and then yells at me for not training enough. Mixed signals much??

Also we're now working on controlling myself around blood which isn't as easy as it sounds. I thought I was getting the hang of it but I sort of _bit his shoulder_ yesterday.

It's not like I _meant_ to but he kept me from feeding for hrs and it was _right_ there. 

And I'm prob definitely a monster cause he bled a little and it tasted really good.

Warm cinnamon rolls in the morning kind of good. He didn't push me off right away either. He just _stared_ and said my name all mean like after a minute or so. 

I wanna do it again. This is bad. 

* * *

 

  **day 23**

I'm a vampire. 

I drink blood. 

I crave blood, ~~mostly his.~~  

I sleep during the day and stay up at night.

I have cool clothes to wear that belong to Raphael ~~(and smell like him)~~.

He does my hair and I let him because it feels good and makes him happy.

I have a bed, a pillow, a room and black windows. 

I'm a vampire, this isn't the end of the world.

Plus, my fangs can break toothbrushes which is really fricking cool.

Also um I might have a crush on Raphael.

A _big_ one, _massive_ , and I have no one to talk to about it.

I did get to see Luke on Tues though and I tried. He thought I meant Clary. That's good I guess. 

I still love her as much as I always have but she doesn't even call anymore.

Still, she'd drag me away from here if I told her how I feel about him and I'm not okay with that. 

* * *

 

  **day 27**

We're working on drowning out noise and using my superhero ears or whatever.

This means closing my eyes while he plays loud music and whispers halfway across the room.

It isn't even Good music which makes it even more hellish. 

Additionally, sensory training also means Raphael with his lips against my ear and that seductive voice whispering.

And yet he expects me to focus on another sound a few feet away.

I'm sorry but that's?? impossible?? I want to scream at him sometimes.

He drives me crazy. 

* * *

 

  **day 31**

We left DuMort today!

He took me to Whole Foods and told me not to ask questions when I made a face.

We don't  _eat._ It's not logical to shop for groceries but okay. 

We even bought food, delicious juicy plums and a few bags of bread. I miss food.  

Anyway, he told me to stay close and called me _baby._  

In public. He kept holding onto my arm too.

Every once in awhile he'd take me to an empty aisle just so he could be dramatic and whisper about vamp secrets or whatever.

Nah, I'm kidding. It was stuff like:

 

_*Remember what I taught you, listen. See the man in the green shirt? What's he saying?_

_*Baby, you have to walk slower unless you want to draw attention to us._

_*No fangs today, use your breathing technique_

_*I need you to go two aisles over and grab a loaf of pumpernickel. Come back to me, you can do this._

_And-_

_*Buen trabajo, mi cielo.'_

 

(FWIW: I passed every test)

The cashier smiled when she heard him call me _Baby_. She thought we were a couple and he just...he gave her that creepy charming grin.

I might've stared at him and forgot where I was. I keep forgetting that the regular (mundane) world doesn't know what our ~relationship~ is. 

To them - staring, pet names and shopping together means we're in love. 

~~I kinda like it.~~

* * *

 

**day 33**

shadowhunter drama.

I'm okay to visit clary now which means helping with captain america.

she wanted to ask raphael over the phone if we could get blood for jace but I said no, we have to do it in person.

he of course, said no but I talked him around. by that I mean I felt him up, in a way, and bossed him around.

he likes both of those, _a lot_. 

also, we touch a lot lately. it's small stuff like squeezing his knee or shoulder all casual like because it's fun to catch him off guard.

feels huge though?? like a shift?? and he does it back, even more than I do.

so I felt up his biceps (umm yes pls) and it worked. I could prob get him to do anything like that tbh. touching is his weakness.

unfortunately I was coming to the end of staying here and clary needs me a lot lately so I was preparing to camp out at the institute and drop by dumort to feed. 

I didn't want to go and he knew it.

the jerk came up with a fake job title on the spot so I'd stay. I almost called him out on it but he told me not to complain

and said, ' _Stick Around'_ just as flirty as you please. 

~~I'm weak~~

my shiny new title: **adviser to the interim chapter president**. 

_'my new advisor has to stay here'_

imagine that in his voice... 

yea

he wants me here. he's not obligated to keep me which means it's sort of  _personal_ now.

I watch clary leave and stay behind. I chose him.

I'm not upset about it but I _am_ confused. 

* * *

 

  **day 36**

Big day. Oh boy.

It started out with the usual: feed, vampire politics and downworlder meetings, check in with Clary, feed again

training: grappling, sharpening fighting skills, jumping high up etc

hang out with Raphael when we're not busy

(I like that part)

and then he changed everything. 

I'll write it out the best I can:

 

-

 

It's a Wednesday (around 3pm) and my nose is buried in a book (Jane Austen's Mansfield Park) wherein Edmund is declaring his feelings for Fanny Price.

 We're sharing a sofa in Raphael's living room, knees touching despite having room to spare and he is reading, also. It's a book of classic poetry in Spanish from what I can tell. It's cozy and peaceful. I'm content to simply sit next to him. It feels like home - this place. Him. Our family. It's home. 

 

_'I love you as a man loves a woman,' Edmund confesses. Fanny blushes and tears up._

 

I do not hear him move nor does his book rustle when he closes it.

Suddenly there's a thumb lightly brushing against my cheek and I'm aware of his thigh against mine - the intoxicating scent of him. Mansfield Park tumbles to the sofa.

My eyes close and all I can feel and hear is  _him._ Being a vampire means having him this close is painfully intimate. I can practically feel him buzzing in my veins.

"Simon?" He whispers, checking in. 

Instinctively I follow the sound of his voice. I have to touch him - I crave it more than blood.

I need to  _see_ him to know that this is real. When I open my eyes, his are the darkest brown and we're reflecting one another.

His cheeks have a tinge of soft pink due to recent feeding and he's so  _alive_ tonight.

He is so incredibly beautiful. 

My hands tremble as I touch him with my fingertips. First the curve of his forehead and over a cheekbone. Finally, the slope of his jaw.

 We don't need to breathe but our lungs have forgotten. His lips part as I trace the seam of them and I feel his breath on my skin.  

I'm falling apart already and we haven't even kissed.

A hand tugs gently until our bodies are aligned, leaning into one another. Raphael hooks a finger under my chin. 

"I need you," he murmurs. 

The truth is, he always has. It's a fact he never bothered to hide. 

I nod - we're in this together. 

 

( I need you too

I need you, Raphael 

 _I need you_ )

 

I cup his cheek in my palm and kiss him. It's delicate and unrushed but no less explosive. His lips are soft under mine and impossibly warm. I want to kiss him until the sun goes down and kiss him again as it rises. 

Everything he is surrounds me.

His hand in my hair, lips parting, the low moan in his throat. I wrap my arms around him and nip at his mouth with the tip of my fangs. When it accidentally pierces the skin, I draw back to apologize.

"Drink," he says, almost desperate. He nudges my head into the crook of his neck and turns to the side, exposing his throat.

"Simon... _caer bien_ _..._ baby,drink from me." 

I must be dreaming. 

I kiss over his pulse point as gently as I kissed his lips and he shudders. When my fangs sink into his skin, his arms come up to cradle me against his chest.

He tastes as sweet as I remember and I can't get enough. I suck and lick, bite and kiss. I greedily pull back the collar of his shirt and touch every precious inch of skin I can get to. We're a slow desperation - blood flowing in reverse, his body filling mine.

It's sensual and I can feel him in every remarkable way - as though we're being reborn together. 

.

.

When it's time to let go, he stays close. He holds me and I feel _human_.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmurs, kissing my forehead. 

"How long?"

"Since the first time you smiled at me."

I love him.

I love him. 

"C'mere," I whisper.

I pepper his face with kisses and he  _laughs._

We are not monsters. The dead know what it means to love.

* * *

 

 

**day 42**

He loves me.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've ran out of room to add titles etc in the main description, so sad. I hope you're all still sticking in there despite that? Also this happy fic is to make up for the pathetic sadness I posted recently, ouch. we could all use some fluff after that)
> 
> (one last thing: I haven't read Manfield Park but I've watched the '99 movie and *swoons* it's gorgeous and Fanny gets her Edmund)


	21. if you could only see the way he loves me (maybe you would understand)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to tell her he doesn't owe her an explanation and his happiness should be enough but she's still Clary Fray, still his best friend. If she could only see how Raphael loves him, maybe she would understand and he'd open up to her. 
> 
> But she can't; doesn't want to. 
> 
>  
> 
> Or: Simon makes a Facetime call with Clary and Raphael barges in.

 

 

 

"How are you holding up?" Clary asks.

In Clary-language it translates to:  _how is he treating you?_

Simon beams at the tiny image of her on Facetime.

 

 

Her signature fiery hair is braided along the top and there's a look on her face that reminds him a lot of his mother when she's prying. On his end, vampires walk to and fro in DuMort - some are chatting over glasses of blood, others are just passing through and paying him no attention.  Raphael is somewhere in the building and Simon figures the elder vampire must be flying solo tonight when it comes to Official Clan Business. 

"Great actually," he replied cheerily. 

He discreetly pans over his fellow clan members who are engaging in a civil discussion about Elliot's sharp new suit and onto Stan who is glaring in the background. Oops. So much for snooping on the sly. 

"That guy is glaring at you," Clary points out loudly. 

Simon aims the phone at himself again and ignores the daggers in Stan's eyes. The man takes this immortal  _I'm too cool to die so go on and try me_ grumpy vampire stance entirely too far but Simon isn't going to encourage him by being bait. 

"Him? Oh that's just Stan. He's not really as mean as he looks," he waves off her concern. No one is allowed to hurt him, Raphael's rules. Specifically his exact words were a cryptic: 

_'If you value your lives, I'd suggest you not touch him.'_

It wasn't a suggestion.

They've obeyed thus far. 

"Simon, he looked like he wanted to _bite_ you."

He stifles laughter that's threatening to bubble over because he's  _so_ on board with being a vampire snack. Not with just anyone though. This sexy gazelle neck belongs to a certain stiff collared vampire with chronic resting bitch face. He probably should tell Clary, but he can't be bothered to do so at the current moment. 

"I'm not worried," he replies with a confident smile. 

DuMort's walls are home and he's safe here. The impeccable building is a fortress under the guise of a hotel. If Raphael isn't around to protect him, at least one other clan member steps up to take on the task. They wouldn't hurt him. Not to mention the Night Children's well enforced rules about biting one another. The first lesson he learned upon becoming the youngest clan member was:

_'Keep your fangs to yourself unless it's consensual'_

So yeah.

There's nothing to be concerned about.

He steers the conversation into a more neutral territory and tries not to be hurt by the fact that she's skeptical of people he considers family.

Shadowhunters have an ingrained distrust of the downworld it seems, even if they're relatively new to it in the grand scheme of things. She's in the middle of an amusing story concerning she and Isabelle having an unfortunate (naked) run in with Maryse when a chill goes down his back. 

Suddenly, Clary freezes. 

 

 

It's then that he feels a fang scrape along his throat.

 

 

Automatically, his eyes shut and he's surrounded by  _Raphael._ The intoxicating scent of him, the feel of his front now flat against Simon's back, the cool lips on his skin as Raphael mouths along his neck. He shivers and buries a hand in Raphael's hair.

"Hey," Simon murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. 

Having forgotten Clary entirely, he cups the back of Raphael's head and tilts his head. His entire body tingles blissfully when they kiss - he hopes he never gets used to this. Give him months and years of rediscovering the feeling every time.  Raphael parts his lips and Simon sees stars when his tongue touches his own. Everything in his head is  _Raphael._ Behind them, the clan go about their chatting and bloody cocktails.  

Clary finds her voice and squawks, shocked. "SIMON."

_Shit._

It's like his brain has decided to overlay every part of itself with him. 

He flinches, coming back down to Earth. Raphael smirks at the phone. "Clarissa," he says in greeting. Before she can dare question him or his motives, he saunters out of the room and Simon longingly stares at his retreating back. 

She clears her throat and he contemplates ending the call without saying goodbye but that'd be pointless. She'd call back until he answered.

"You're _sleeping_ with him?" 

She makes it sound so cheap and meaningless. 

"We don't _sleep_ that much actually, um, mostly we-"

He clamps his mouth shut when her eyes widen.

He's dangerously close to babbling about hours spent just  _holding_ one another and exchanging soft kisses. Or tossing passive aggressive insults from the other side of the bed when they're arguing. Or the bloodstained sheets (mostly on his side because Mr. Fancy didn't want  _his_ side getting sullied) and bite marks on clothed parts of his body. 

Or

Or 

Or-

_Screw it._

"Yeah, we are. _I am_." 

She recovers, lips pursed together. She and Raphael are mortal (immortal - ha) enemies which is why he's waited this long to spill the beans. He'd hate to be the cause of a petty feud. 

"Whose idea was it?"

That's difficult - it just sort of  _happened_ one day. 

"Mine?"

She arches a brow. "You don't know?"

He rubs at his neck uneasily. Why does sharing Raphael with her the Shadowhunter world bring out the selfish asshole in him? He wants to tell her he doesn't owe her an explanation and his happiness should be enough but she's still Clary Fray, still his best friend. If she could only see how Raphael loves him, maybe she would understand and he'd open up to her. 

But she can't; doesn't want to.  

"I-"

 

Suddenly he's acutely aware of a body behind him that's certainly not Raphael. 

 

Stan looms behind him ominously and pushes his face entirely too close to the screen. He's not terribly old like the others but Simon is guessing he doesn't know how to work a smartphone.

" _Both_. Move on to a new topic, shadowhunter, before I decide to _recycle_ this phone."

Simon busts out laughing as Stan walks away. Clary cranes her neck and he purposely pans far away from Stan who is now smirking proudly at two members he's closest to -Maria and Tavian. 

"I don't trust him," she says. Simon misses it. 

Raphael steps back into the room and props himself up against a wall as Stan fills him in. Simon feels him in every cell of his body and he's going to die if he continues to lazily lean there, all displayed like that. Or exist at all without being in Simon's orbit. 

He catches Raphael's eye and is treated to a flirty wink. "Uh, I have to go." 

"Simo-" 

He hits the end call button and steals Raphael away from the small gathering.

 

-

 

 

They don't even make it to their bedroom before Simon is shoving him against a wall and nipping at those obscenely plush lips. They might even be illegal in some states - they're outright pornographic. 

"You're welcome," the elder vampire purrs.

"Mm," Simon moans as Raphael's fangs sink into his neck.

He skims Raphael's back and follows it down to his ass. He never took himself as an _ass_ sort of guy until he discovered the beautiful marriage of Raphael's ass and tight pants. It's an artform, really.

He can't even be bothered by the fact that the other schemed with Stan in order to rescue him from Clary or that he assumed Simon needed rescuing (again). Not when it lead to this. 

The elder vampire chuckles against Simon's neck when he uses his ass to pull him in until there's no space between them.

He'll have to get more creative in messing with the shadowhunters next time. A nice hard bite mark on the side of Simon's neck will do, he thought. If he's feeling rather petty, he'll suck a hickey there as well. That'll give the institute's henchmen something to talk about. 

After a few steamy minutes of grinding and biting, Simon squeezes his arm. Raphael moves away from his neck and leads them to the bedroom.

The phone rests on a dining table, abandoned. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is nonlinear so you can put it wherever you want on a happy fluffy timeline 
> 
> title: "if you could only see"  
> by: tonic
> 
> (gray ace homosexual raphael/pan simon)


	22. it's in the details, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make me love you, he thought.
> 
> Simon doesn't even have to try. All he has to do is exist and Raphael is half out of his mind with love.
> 
>  
> 
> inspired by -  
> song: "wild"  
> by: troye sivan

 

* * *

 

 

Simon's legs are wrapped around Raphael's waist in the middle of the bed.

His arms are enveloping the elder vampire's back, hands against his shoulder blades. He has his face against Raphael's shoulder, content to stay there forever. Raphael leans his head against Simon's and tightens his arms around his waist. 

 _You make me love you,_ he thought.

Simon doesn't even have to try. All he has to do is exist and Raphael is half out of his mind with love. He presses his lips against Simon's temple and feels his chest physically ache with affection. Not even six months ago he'd slept alone in a queen sized bed with thick pillows on either side for comfort. He'd turned down Magnus' invites to this party and that at Pandemonium or Hardtail.

He'd convinced himself that eternity would be more peaceful and quiet without someone by his side - and then Simon. That's it. 

_And then Simon-_

existed.

smiled.

came searching for him again and again.

was turned. 

chose  _him -_ _'I vote yes' _

kissed him after Magnus crashed a wedding.

betrayed him, begged his way back.

loved him madly.

It's two thirty in the afternoon and they should be sleeping but Simon wanted to be held. For no reason other than to surround himself with a love Raphael may never find the words to define. He's quiet save for a content sigh and the occasional breath against Raphael's neck when he shifts. For him, Raphael breathes. In and out, chest expanding in a gift for Simon - a stolen moment to pretend they're still living.  

Before he was turned, when the neighborhood boys took an interest in chasing girls, Raphael's mama sat him down and shared her wisdom. What stuck with him was this:

_'If you want to know if it's love, mi pequeño grano de, pay attention. It's not grand gestures. Sometimes it's holding them close without expecting anything in return. Sometimes it's finding someone you care enough about to protect. You don't always have to say it. If you've got that, mi amor, chase it.' _

And he had. He'd let it run him right into the ground and nearly threw in the towel. Then he thought about the many ways he'd disappointed his late mama already and decided to fix them in her honor. It hadn't been easy and Simon fought him on it but they'd survived the storm and were all the more stronger for it. 

"You smell good," Simon murmurs, breaking through Raphael's thoughts. 

He nudges his nose against the elder vampire's neck and inhales deeply. Even that is enough to make the other shudder with pleasure. He can't fight this feeling and he doesn't want to. He trails a hand up the notches in Simon's spine and follows it to a mess of curls, cupping the back of his head. 

"I love you," he whispers. 

It isn't the first time he's said it and won't be the last but it's powerful nonetheless. He ghosts his lips over Simon's and parts his lips, breathing him in. It's startlingly intimate -  _breathing_ together and feeling like his immortal soul is becoming a part of someone far more beautiful than a beating heart. Simon smiles against his mouth and attempts to close the scant few inches between their bodies. 

 _"Te amo,"_ Simon says, butchering the pronunciation. 

He speaks Spanish fluently but it's always laced with his own unique dialect, meaning it sounds awkward. It's fitting. 

Raphael's back hits the bed as Simon untangles himself and crawls over him. When they touch, skin to skin, it's a slow sensual dance. Each time is a decade Raphael spent waiting for his turn and he intends on savoring every second. Soon, they'll have to play their respective parts as advisor and clan leader but for now -

Simon wraps his legs around him and Raphael thinks -

_I love him._

_I love him._

_God, I love him._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mi pequeño grano de: my little bean


	23. even bill nye can't save you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets a little too excited in regards to Bill Nye's new show and pansexuality.

 

 

Raphael hears a loud screech from the next floor up and recognizes it immediately.

The glass he'd been holding crashes to the floor in an array of glistening splinters and crimson. Elliot hastily moves out of his way. The clan leader bolts up the stairs and races through multiple floors until he reaches the source.

The door to his living area bursts open, slamming against the wall. Raphael's fangs are lethal and sharp, long nails curled into claws. He'll rip through flesh with his bare teeth and hands if anyone - and he does mean  _anyone -_ has harmed Simon.

Only-

Said fledgling is camped out on his sofa with a bag of O negative in one hand and the TV remote in the other. The bag falls to the floor and the remote slips from his hands when Raphael freezes in the doorway, chest heaving.

"I..." Simon gestures helplessly at the television, scrambling to find his voice again. "B-Bill Nye has a new show and he mentioned p-pansexuality and I'm pan like the _Pan_ in my old band's name and most people say it's not real but i-it's science and his word is sort of law so-"

Raphael growls.

He stalks into the room, eyes dark and jaw clenched.  

Simon shrinks into the sofa. "O-Oh...did you think I-? I'm not hurt. See?" He chuckles nervously and plucks at his shirt as (a poor excuse for) proof. It's an old one of Raphael's that Simon ruined with splotches of blood.

It's one of few shirts they don't share. 

Raphael advances. Silent. Deadly. 

Simon grabs a nearby throw pillow for protection. Raphael would never intentionally hurt him but he's pretty sure that's murder in his eyes, yup. Ruined jackets and stained shirts didn't do him in but making Raphael think he was under attack likely will. He won't even have a chance to share the good news with Clary. She likes Bill Nye too - what a shame. 

"You can't kill me...you love me," he stammers. 

Raphael roughly pushes him back against the sofa - horizontally. Okay. Alright. If he has to go, at least he'll be able to cop one more feel. Just one. There are worse ways to die. Death via groping a sexy vampire boyfriend isn't even in the top 10. 

Only-

"If you ever scare me like that again," Raphael hisses, lowering himself onto Simon. "I'm cancelling Netflix and I'll personally see to it that you spend your days sleeping in a  _casket."_

Don't get him wrong - he's thrilled that Simon is unharmed - but that doesn't mean he can't teach him a lesson. He'd automatically assumed the worst and expected to storm in only to find that he wasn't fast enough to save him. This is unacceptable. Whoever this Bill Nye is, he's not important enough to take away Raphael's peace of mind. He's taking it back.

Underneath him, Simon squirms until he frees a hand. 

That shamelessly finds it's way to his ass. 

 

 

He's going to murder Simon Lewis. 

 

 

Noticing the barely there restraint on Raphael's pale cheeks, he retracts his hand. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry." Followed by a sudden hint of mischief. "Not for that though. I refuse to apologize for feeling you up." 

Raphael growls under his breath and presses his lips against the others smug mouth. It's an angry passionate _If you die on me for real I'll resurrect you and kill you myself_ liplock. It's teeth and slick lips and delicious friction. Simon wraps his legs around Raphael's waist and moans, low and filthy. It's not his fault that his lust crazed body has a murderous Raphael kink - it's  _his_ for making it look and sound so hot. 

The elder vampire rolls his hips and leans in for a kiss. His lips ghost along Simon's and he can practically taste the  _want_ there- the craving for more. He gives in and loses himself in Simon's arms, the faint wet heat of his mouth -

_Dios._

Back to the plan, stick to it.

Stick to it. 

Raphael rallies every ounce of ironclad strength he has in order to fight this and reluctantly breaks the kiss.

Simon raises a hand to cup his cheek and he twists away from it it. "But..." He blinks, confused and painfully turned on. 

Raphael grabs the remote that somehow lodged itself half in the sofa cushions behind Simon's head and effortlessly untangles himself. The sight of Simon sprawled out on the sofa and coming undone is almost too inviting but then again, so is teasing him.

"C'mon...please. Come back," he whines, reaching for Raphael. 

The clan leader tosses the remote next to him and (with great effort because _dios_ it's tempting to give in)  walks out the door. 

The drawn out muffled groan that follows is ~~almost~~ worth the frustration. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by my own excited screeching while watching it. I think I even forgot to breathe for a few seconds there. the fact that my fav chef (give it up for alton brown) had a guest appearance only elevated that and my cats didn't appreciate it but whatever, they survived. 
> 
> anyways I love the idea of my geeky son watching the sexuality episode and getting all steamy with raphael while it plays in the background ( *_* )
> 
>  
> 
> featuring:  
> gray-ace-homosexual raphael + pansexual simon


	24. I've been crossing all the lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you," Simon breathed, pressing open mouth kisses to his throat. "I love you," he echoed, needing Raphael to feel it.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> RATING FOR THIS CHAPTER: M (Mature)  
> (PORN WITH FEELINGS)

 

 

Simon moaned, bucking his hips as teeth sank into his shoulder.

 

Knowing Raphael was drinking from him, feeling the hot suction and the soft sound of his throat working - it was almost too much. He dug his fingers into bare skin and fucked into Raphael slow and deep, savoring how the other trembled against his chest. The lips on his throat faltered, losing their rhythm momentarily and it only spurred Simon on. 

Never in his life had he felt such intensity. Everything was heightened to a dizzying peak and he's  _burning._ Red hot from the inside out with every bitten off moan and Raphael sweetly panting words Simon couldn't understand against his skin. 

He buried his hands in the others hair and pressed their mouths together, still slick and blood stained as it grew heated. He could taste himself on Raphael's lips and if that wasn't the hottest thing, God, he didn't know what was. 

 _"Te quiero mucho,"_ Raphael panted, desperately repeating the words with every kiss. 

It's you that I love, Simon thought, melting into him. 

You

_You -_

He cupped Raphael's face and stared into dark eyes, vulnerable and open. He saw his own want reflected back at him and a love that planted itself there from the start. No other word could ever fit what they had - let the skeptics say a heart can't fall hard and fast, can't feel this deeply so soon - they'd prove them wrong. They'd prove the entire world wrong. 

His finger brushed across a cheekbone as he sank into Raphael. They trembled against one another, hands wandering to collarbones and hips, shoulder blades and the curve of a jaw before intertwining.

Simon was falling apart, coming together, the dead walking out of the grave hand in hand.  "You make me..." He breathed. "I feel... _alive_." 

Raphael kissed him fiercely, sucking at his lower lip after a moment and pulling out of the kiss. Simon Lewis was driving him wild, waking parts of him he'd never known before. He felt protected in his arms, loved and wanted. He felt  _safe._

"I love you," Simon breathed, pressing open mouth kisses to his throat. "I love you," he echoed, needing Raphael to _feel_ it. 

He wrapped his arms around the elder vampire and held him close as they rocked into one another. In return, Raphael buried his face in Simon's neck and shuddered. They're blood, salt and immortality - lost sinners finding the holy land in each other.  They're love patiently waiting in the dark for decades and stretching awake with the light. 

They're here - reborn to be alive at the same time. 

 _I am yours for the taking,_ he thought. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this was set immediately after clary x isabelle left in "morningstar" which explains the bite mark on simon's neck afterward buuuuut it felt too angsty so it's non-linear 
> 
>  
> 
> (per usual: gray ace (gay) raphael x pan simon)


	25. follow the heartlines on your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadowhunters, wolves and vampires have rallied together to free Meliorn. 
> 
> It's a very important mission and Simon is trying his best to focus but someone is distracting him.
> 
> EPISODE: Rise Up

 

 

 

 

> _You make my heart shake bend and break_  
>  _But I can't turn away_  
>  _And it's driving me wild_  
>  _You're driving me wild_
> 
> ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdXNNveYOfU))
> 
>  

**[gif set of this moment](https://woodenhallslikecaskets.tumblr.com/post/159483028572/alberto-rozende-i-do) **

 

 

Meliorn has been captured, Isabelle is using a magical powder to aid in his rescue, the wolves and vampires are at their back.

Their tiny corner of the world is in chaos.

 

In ten seconds Simon and Raphael's cue to run will be up but the fledgling is distracted.

His shoulders brush the leather of Raphael's jacket as they lean against a building side by side. Up this close Simon can  _smell_ him and it makes his mouth water. It should be repulsive that the heavy scent of blood should make his stomach do flips in a way that's only partly due to hunger but it's not. 

Next to him, Raphael is an overwhelming mixture of worn in leather, bittersweet chocolate and woodsy shampoo.

He should market that crap and sell it to the government. Douse that on the soldiers and the enemy will be too inebriated to fight back. Yeah, having them work together was a huge mistake because Simon's focus keeps shifting back to the clan leader and hunger pangs. 

 _You could bite him,_ his brain supplies. 

First off, Raphael would probably kill him before he tasted the first drop. 

Second off,  _he_ would probably kill _Raphael_ like Camille had killed him but more permanent.  

_NO._

_Not him. _

Anxiety begins to set in and Simon is doubting his abilities until -

A cold finger deliberately caresses the back of his hand and he falters, glancing at the other vampire. Raphael looks the other way as though he's all business though his mind is obviously elsewhere.

That wasn't an accident; Raphael doesn't fidget.

It happens again. 

Simon's thoughts come to a screeching halt until everything revolves around that moment. His skin holds onto the caress and replays itself in his mind. Damn Raphael and his gentle hands. Now is not the time for stealing touches or analyzing it 50 ways to Sunday. 

He blinks, attempting to clear the fog in his head and not  _that._  It helps up until the ten seconds are over and Raphael grabs his hand lightning fast. He's positive there's a logical reason behind it such as a slow fledgling ruining the plan but again - time constraint. 

Once they arrive, Raphael takes his time releasing Simon's hand and slowly dragging his fingers over it. 

_Holy..._

_Do it again._

_What the fuck, Lewis._

_Get it together, man._

Being a vampire means your senses are amped up to eleven and the simple act of Raphael grazing his knuckles is incredibly arousing. Everything about him makes Simon want to latch onto his throat and bitch at him at the same time. That probably isn't healthy. 

He gapes at Raphael, mind still reeling. 

_You're so pretty that I want to punch you in the face._

_Or bite you r lip, hard._

_(((s c r e a m)))_

What a convenient time for conflicting feelings, fantastic.

Such a responsible leader - distracting his brand new fledgling by sexually frustrating him. Either said vampire can read Simon's mind (please - no) or his eyes are giving him away because just then, Raphael  _winks_ at him. It's unmistakable and needs no ten page essay on why it happened or what it means. 

He shivers and they continue on with the mission. The entire debacle spanned less than two minutes but it was a whirlwind while it lasted. 

This is his world now and living with  _that_ might do him in for good.

If he could pray, he'd pray for strength. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I showed that gif-set to my spouse who doesn't even watch SH and asked what he saw. he said - "looks like a caress to me" and I screeched. I then told him the context and he stuck to his original answer. so I had to write this even tho I haven't slept and it's lousy but whatever. 
> 
> this delicate scene is the beginning of the near constant touching that makes saphael so beautiful. it's raphael trying to calm simon who is still brand new to this world and being thrust into a dangerous mission. it shows simon that raphael can act high and mighty but there's a softer side to him. 
> 
> *screams*


	26. desire in the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon wakes up Raphael.  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> RATING: M  
> TAGS: blood drinking, coming in clothes, dry humping

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Drawn to darkness but never love_

_'till you possessed my soul and woke me up_

_desire in the darkness_

_I'm ready to lose myself_

 ([ **x**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5G1I6fcGfXk))

 

* * *

 

Raphael woke to a hot mouth working its way down his jawline and leaving tiny bruises in its wake.

He felt the distinct outline of a hard cock gravitating toward his own and arched into it. He would gladly sacrifice the last dredges of sleep for this, no hesitation.

* * *

 

 

They'd been an item for four weeks now, having worked their way up from the occasional platonic bed sharing to a heated kiss serving as an enthusiastic  _welcome home_ after Simon spent half a day at the Institute. Simon had barely made it through the door and called Raphael's name before said person shoved him against a wall and muttered -

_'You belong with me'_

It didn't seem possible but they somehow managed to be even more clingy than usual after. 

* * *

 

 

Simon moaned against the crook of Raphael's neck and rolled his hips, jutting forward to meet the friction. His fingers dug into muscle and strayed, trying to touch Raphael everywhere at once.

He'd woke in the middle of the day to find a shirtless Raphael lying half on top of him with that sinful mouth parted temptingly and long dark lashes fanning his cheeks. Heat flooded his thin pajama bottoms and he knew there was no reason in even trying to go back to sleep. If he tried, a dreamlike version of Raphael would inevitably appear in nearly every dream or fantasy and he'd still awaken, all wound up. 

Futile.

Raphael's hand drifted down to Simon's hip and stopped to drag his fingertips over it.

In turn, Simon grinded into him harder, desperately seeking an outlet for the heat building up in him. The elder vampire then turned his attention to sliding under the elastic of Simon's pants and planting his hands on his ass, using it to pull him in and away, reveling in every breathy - 

 _'Don't stop'_ and  _'You're killing me. Please...'_

Raphael flipped onto his back and Simon straddled him, pushing against him. 

He released long enough to pull Simon's shirt over his head and barely managed even that as it meant losing that contact for a few precious seconds. He needed the intimacy of Simon's naked chest against his own - that was his favorite part. _That_ and Simon's lips turning cherry red and bitten from kissing which was unbelievably sexy.

With the t-shirt free, they melded together once more.

It didn't matter that they were still mostly dressed; that made it even hotter in Raphael's opinion especially since Simon was wearing  _his_ shirt. Fangs pierced Raphael's neck and he nearly lost it right then and there. 

Simon met him thrust for thrust with lips painted in Raphael's blood as he sucked and licked the hot droplets from his vein.

Pressure built up in a frenzied rush and clumsy movements that lacked rhythm by this point. More so, it was a desperate game of push and pull, tease and bite. He retracted his fangs and surged forward, capturing Raphael's lips in a slick kiss that pushed them both over the edge. 

God, there was something unbelievably sexy about licking into Raphael's mouth with the taste of his blood still lingering. One more stroke of his tongue sealed the deal. Simon grinded down against him again, cock throbbing, and pumped hot streaks in his boxers. 

 _"Simon,"_ Raphael breathed, eyes heavy and dark with lust. He rolled his hips against Simon's clothed cock once then again, watching the movement and biting his lip until he drew blood.  

"I love you...I love you," Simon panted as Raphael thrust harder and faster. " _So_ much. You're so...mmm...good and...hot...NNnnghhhh." 

Those three words made Raphael feel like he'd been set ablaze. He moaned a string of incomprehensible words in spanish intermingled with Simon's name and collapsed back against the pillows, cock twitching with aftershocks. 

 

"Good morning," Simon said, all wide pupils and kiss bruised lips. 

 

Raphael reached up and cupped his cheek tenderly, "You're beautiful," he murmured. He always had been, even before Camille hooked her claws in him. Raphael had taken one look at him anxiously searching for an escape route and understood what his mama meant when she said - _'_ _Your first love will find you and when they do, you'll know right from the start.'  _ 

He didn't want to fall in love but Simon happened anyway - like a comet blazing through the night sky and lodging in his chest, refusing to leave. Now that he was here, Raphael couldn't imagine an entire galaxy that didn't revolve around him. 

 _"Te amo,_ kiss me," he said, running his hands over the others back. 

Simon grinned and leaned in. They would need to shower soon but it could wait. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written such clear cut porn and idk how to feel about myself right now lol
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> family: if you find this, for the love of god spare us both and don't read it 
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> tbh writing smut is so difficult. I kept getting interrupted and paranoid that someone was going to read over my shoulder ( *_*) you'll be happy to know that they did not, in fact, see or read my filth 
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> anyway, lmk if you liked it? I rarely write smut so I need to know if I'm a 0 on a scale of 1-10 or whatever


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